


A Deep Scarlet

by orphan_account



Series: Insatiable [8]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5 Times, Alternatively titled: Byleth makes Claude's kokoro go doki doki, Attempt at Humor, Blushing, Claude-centric, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings Realization, Female Masturbation, Female Solo, Femdom, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Male Solo, Masturbation, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip, Sadism, Sparring, Suggestive Themes, Teasing, Tfw you get cockblocked by a goddess, Vignette, am i doing this right lmao, claude is a horny virgin what can i say, crushing on your hot teacher, teenage boys talking about boobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chapter one: Five times dear old Teach makes Claude's heart race and skip a beat.Chapter two: Five times Claude tries to woo Byleth, with varying degrees of success.Chapter three: Five times Byleth teases Claude.Vignettes. Pre-Timeskip.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read Like pages from an open book, you might recognize a scene. 
> 
> Enjoy!

1.

The first thing Claude thought of when he had a good look at this ex-merc turned teacher was that she had terrible fashion taste. Her outfit was a disaster and he briefly wondered whether that was point: To distract enemies with thoughts of "_Girl, really_?" so she could skewer them without much trouble. It certainly seems to be a tactic that works, what with how she promptly slayed their attackers and saved Edelgard. She was very obviously a force to be reckoned with and worthy of being the child of the famous Blade Breaker.

The second thing Claude thought of when he got to know this mysterious woman that piqued his curiosity like a door that had neither lock nor key was that she was a bit… Bizarre. For someone who surely couldn't be much older than him and his classmates she was awfully stony-faced and detached. _ "Resting bitch face" _is what Leonie called her apparent permanent expression and Claude had to agree with that sentiment. She also spoke with a calmness that radiated experience and wisdom, as if she was a world-weary traveler at least 80 years of age. 

Once, he had heard her speaking to someone, but it sounded like she was answering and asking questions to someone who wasn't there. When he investigated he confirmed his suspicions, there was truly no one there except her. Byleth had turned around to face with a speed that obviously meant she was flustered, and the small surprise on her face he had caught a glimpse of before it disappeared when her stony expression returned filled him with perverse sense of achievement. He wanted to see that expression again. After that he had begun to notice that at times she would look beyond other people when speaking them, almost looking annoyed, as if she was glaring at an uninvited guest who had rudely inserted themselves into the conversation. 

But there was no one there. 

Very bizarre indeed. He found he quite liked… her quirks. 

And because of that the next thing he thought of when looking at her was that he really, really, _ really _ wanted her to be the teacher for the Golden Deer. He wanted to know her, to _ study _ her. Whenever he had dabbled in making poisons he would take various flora apart and grind them to dust, mix them with the venom of many animals he had poached and drip them into corrosive liquids that more often than not blew up in his face. Through trial and error (and there were _ many _errors) and meticulous studying he had become a master of knowing which plants could kill and developed an immunity for at least 20 different poisons. 

He wanted to do the same with Byleth. Take her apart as if she were a mannequin, put her back together, pick at her brain, see what makes her _ tick. _Study every inch of her. He wanted to know so, so much about the mystery he couldn't solve. She was so infuriating with how he couldn't read her expression and body language properly, and the thought had made him feel more powerless than he felt in a very long time, but now he feels nothing but pure, unabated curiosity that gnawed at him. 

He wanted her as his teacher. Almost as much as he wanted to achieve his dream. Having her as his teacher would no doubt be an asset for that very dream. Studying her and finding her tells and nuances would make him a better reader of people and therefore a better schemer and leader. Not to mention she was a fierce fighter and other than the potential lecture of her telling them to dress poorly as a distraction, he's sure she's filled with tactics and plans he could utilize to realize his dream. 

He wants to _ use _her. 

But… Dimitri and Edelgard had thrown themselves at her feet, practically begging her to join their Houses. And he knows that when compared to their Houses the Golden Deer must seem rather… lackluster. Perhaps they should have been called the Black Sheep instead, because that's what they are — a group of rowdy misfits who couldn't hope to hold a candle to a future King and Emperor. He knows she must have her own goals in mind, and that the other two Houses must surely be more equipped to achieve them. 

So he didn't make much of an attempt to try to convince her to join the Golden Deer. He had accepted the unlikelihood of her joining, and still planned to try to understand her regardless if she joined Edelgard or Dimitri when it came to her announcing her choice. 

"I choose the Golden Deer." 

Her words reverberated around his skull, like echoes in an empty cave. He couldn't stop the look of triumph forming on his face when he saw the sulky faces of his two peers. Perhaps he had charmed her without realizing it. It made him smirk. 

It would seem Claude von Riegen was a man who got what he wanted, even without needing to scheme. 

When she approached her new class she was immediately accosted by her students. He kept himself nonchalant, trying to conceal how excited he truly was. Cool and flippant. 

"You joined because you wanted to know more about me, didn't you?" He asked with humour in his voice, putting his hands behind his head. He asked that to gauge a reaction out of her, to see how she'll respond to his more casual attitude.

Her lips quirked upwards _ juuuuust _barely and he knows anyone would have missed it if they weren’t actively searching for a change in her expression, "Yes, that was part of it. I look forward to getting to know you more, Claude." She just barely touched his bicep before she left and dammit, he felt as though his heart somersaulted and his breath hitched.

She had gone to speak with the other students and he put his hand to his chest. He could feel his heartbeat accelerate and then decrease. 

He was fully prepared to tell her "_We could have been great together" _ once she picked someone else as a last ditch effort to get her on his side. 

But there was no _ could. _ There was no _ what-ifs. _He doesn't have to imagine that they would have been great. 

He knows that they _ will _be great together.

  
2.

They will be great together. Just not immediately. Or at this very moment. 

Because Claude has detention. _ Detention. _Claude von Riegen, crown prince of Almyra, getting punished for concocting up a scheme. 

"You laced Lorenz's tea with laxatives," she sighed as she took a seat in her chair to begin looking at their test papers. 

He snorts, "He's so full of shit anyway. Figured I'd help."

"He had to run out in the middle of the test." 

"I'm helping him build up resistances and self-control."

A flick of the wrist with her quill and one paper is finished being corrected. He can just barely see the score, 23/50. From the almost unbearable pink on the paper he knows it's Hilda's. It's honestly a higher mark than he expected from her.

"He was in the lavatories for more than an hour." She almost sounds bored. She flips a page to begin marking a new paper. 

He gives lazy shrug. "Resistance and self-control, Teach."

He just hears her furiously scribbling away on the paper. It's probably because there's not much corrections to be made but she makes quick work with this paper. He sees the score, 47/50. Then he spies the name, Lorenz. He smirks. Byleth had allowed him extra time due to his… bowel troubles. 

She continues with the next set of papers and without looking at him she continues speaking.

"Would you take some of the blank papers from the pile there? And a quill with some ink, please." 

He tilts his head, "Gonna make me help you mark papers and write notes or something, Teach? That's cheating." 

She continues to not look at him. 

"You'll be writing some notes. Please get them." 

Claude makes sure to heave the most dramatic sigh and acts like getting up takes the greatest amount of effort his body can exert. When he picks up the papers, ink and quill he sees she still isn't looking at him. He sighs just as dramatically when he slumps back into his seat. 

"You must be spending too much time with Hilda if you're gonna act that lazy." She says, voice blank.

He shrugs again, "Trust me, Teach. I'm dying here."

Byleth flicks her wrist again and hums, signifying her completion of another test. He spies a 36/50. He can't see the name, but he guesses it's Leonie.

He twirls the quill in his hand, "So what do you want me to write? Tactics? Formation plans? My mother's recipe for blueberry tarts? And am I gonna get a bonus for this? I should. Recipes are hard work to write."

She starts the next test. "You'll be writing 'I will not lace my classmate's tea with laxatives.' 100 times. If you need more paper you can get more at the pile." 

A silence blankets over him, and Claude swears he can hear a pin drop. Oh, not a pin, it's the quill in his hand he dropped. He realizes his mouth is wide open and quickly closes it, inwardly thankful that she still hasn't lifted her eyes from those damnable test papers. He knows if Judith was here she'd laugh at him before calling him a foolish boy. 

"Really, Teach?" He sounds positively exasperated.

"Yes, really. It's a punishment, Claude."

He scoffs, and then picks up the quill to put on the table and places his hands back behind his head. 

Byleth continues, _ still _ not sparing him so much as a glance, "I'm helping you build up you resistances and self-control. It'll build up hand muscles so you can resist the pain from writing continuously, as writing reports will be something you'll have to become accustomed to. And self-control as you'll be sitting down for an extended period of time."

He snorts. Snarky bitch, but he can't help smiling at that. If anything it showed she was getting out of her shell more. 

He blows a breath, then stands and he relishes in how she stills her movements from hearing him move, "I need to use the bathroom, I'll be right back." A lie, obviously. He fully intends to leave the room and skip out on detention. He mostly wants to see the shocked look on her face when he leaves and she can't stop him—

"_Sit down, Claude_." 

It actually makes him jump, the... the _ growl _that just breaks through the atmosphere. His heart feels like it lurched in his throat when it skipped a beat. Looking at her, he can feel himself cower under her stern, pointed glare. Of course the only time she so much as looks at him during this debacle he's cowed into submission.

His ass hits the chair so fast he thinks his legs actually stopped working. He wordlessly picks up the quill and begins writing. 

When she speaks, he _ knows _she's talking through a grin, "I said you could write it out 100 times. It's 200 times now since clearly you need more resistance and self-control built up."

"Yes, ma'am." He blinks. Where the fuck did _ ma'am _ come from? 

There's a bark of laughter and he thinks his heart will actually come through his chest. He tries to glance up at her but her face is back down to looking at the test papers. Damn. Just missed it.

"Just Teach will be fine, thank you."

He writes. And writes. And writes. And ignores the warm feeling in his gut. His face is glued to his pages when Byleth eventually comes to him to give him his own test. 

A big fat 0/50. 

Fuck. So she knew he had laced Lorenz's tea so that he'd run out and he could copy his work because the verbose nobleman was sitting directly in front of him for the test.

Evidently, Claude von Riegen actually does _ not _ get everything he wants.

  
3.

Claude fancied himself an expert marksman. None could match his speed and accuracy. The target was a canvas and Claude was the artist, peppering it with arrows and holes. Once he had landed an arrow directly in the bullseye, and then landed another arrow in that very same bullseye — the second arrow splitting the first in two. He continues to consider that one of his greatest achievements. 

He's knocking pine cones off trees with his arrows in Garreg Mach when it happens. There's a sound of twigs breaking underfoot, at first he thinks it's rabbit and thinks nothing of it. Then it happens again and he can tell there's more than one individual skulking in the bush. 

He pretends not to notice. 

He knocks another pine cone down. When he nocks his next arrow he keeps it there, ready to strike when needed. He pretends to be focusing on aiming somewhere. Pretends to be distracted. 

There's a whistle in the air when an arrow that's meant to penetrate his skull flies through the air. It doesn't hit its target, because Claude ducks in the last second, turns his whole body and shoots his own arrow. 

He _ would _have hit another bullseye, right in the middle of the bandit's eyes. 

But the points of the arrow are blunt. Cushioned with soft fabric. 

_ Shit. _

He forgot he picked up a bow used for sparring, rather than his actual bow. 

_ Shitshitshit. _

Obviously his arrow doesn't kill the bandit, but the hit still makes him reel back and Claude uses that split second distraction to start running. He immediately hears footsteps right behind him and he knows it must be the second bandit, chancing a glance he sees her carrying a sword.

A really big and really sharp sword. 

_ Shitshitshitshit. _

If he had _ actual _ arrows he'd be performing an impromptu memorial service for two attempted murderers right now but _ noooooo, _just had to get the fake arrows like the damn genius he is—

A searing pain courses through his lower calf muscles, as if someone has set it aflame and bracken and brambles lash onto his now bleeding leg. He tries to keep his stride but the intensity of the pain causes him to stumble, and his sword wielding pursuer hits him in the back of the head with the butt of sword, making him fall down properly. 

_ I would have gotten the arrow in the person's skull instead of the leg. This guy's a shit shot. _

Turning over so he's on his back, he sees the sword bandit lifting her sword over her head to strike him down.

_ And this one. She could have just beheaded me then and there but clearly someone has a flare for the dramatic. Who does she think she is, a protagonist in some novel felling her wounded arch nemesis? Fuck this, man. _

The salty sweat on his brow stings his eyes and the humidity feels like a wet duvet. What a sad ending. Judith would be disappointed. And probably kill him herself if she saw this. 

End of Claude von Riegen. No epilogue. 

There's another whistle in the air and a sudden, harsh gurgle. 

There's an arrow in the bandit's throat. Blood pours out of her like a waterfall, her sword is dropped to the side before she falls to the ground herself. Her body twitches before eventually going limp.

No epilogue for her, then. 

"Claude!" That sounds an awful lot like Cyril. He didn't know he used the bow. He makes a mental note to challenge him to a duel later to show him who's the real the hotshot here. 

A shot to the throat? Pffft. A shot in the middle of the eyes is totally more impressive. 

When he's done thinking that Claude sees just a blur run straight past him, focusing his vision he sees it's Byleth and he finds he might actually pity the fool she's chasing after like a bat out of hell. 

Cyril dashes to his side, grimacing when he sees his leg, "Claude! You good?"

"Peachy, Cyril. I even got a new accessory," he tries to lift his leg to show his "accessory" but evidently it was poor decision making on his part as he immediately hisses in pain and throws his head back. 

He hears twigs and leaves crunching again and looks up to see Byleth walking back to him, her sword covered in blood.

No epilogue for mister shit shot either.

"Cyril," Byleth says, "Go get Marianne." 

The younger Almyran nods and runs away. Claude tries to grin am easy smile, "So, uh, thanks for saving my behind. Appreciate it." His voice is raspy but he’s able to keep it mostly even.

Byleth leans down to take a look at his leg and makes her own grimacing. That's one grimace too many for a day. 

He tries to make small tall, despite starting to lose feeling in his leg, "So...what were you and Cyril doing out and about?" 

She looks like she's about to yell at him for a second, but softens her expression when she replies. 

"Lady Rhea asked him to hunt some rabbits for supper and I joined to assist." Sadness then marrs her face, "He's much too young to have killed someone. I will need to speak with him later to make sure he's okay." 

Trying to keep it casual, Claude shrugs, "He's a pretty good shot. Bet I'm better though."

She fixes him with a look that pointedly tells him to shut up. 

_ Right. Sad moment. Read the damn atmosphere, idiot. _

Maybe he lost too much blood from his leg.

"I've checked and I don't think there's any more bandits. Let's get you to the monastery." 

He looks at the arrow pointing out of his calf and he looks at Byleth with a dubious expression, "Uh, I'm definitely not going anyway like this. Don't even think I can lean on your shoulder and hop around."

She nods, "Good thing you won't need to walk or hop then."

Before he can make a response, a hand slithers behind his back and under his thighs and she lifts him with little to no effort. He gives a small "_ ah!" _ which _ totally _ isn't all that high pitched and shrill, and his arms _ totally _doesn't wrap around her shoulders with the speed and impatience of a galloping horse. 

  
And he _ totally _isn't blushing scarlet.

_ Totally. _

Byleth walks as if she's taking a leisurely stroll and not like she just saved his sorry ass. He knew she was strong, but he didn't expect her to just pick him up like he weighed nothing.

She must have sensed that thought, because next she says, "You weigh like nothing. You eating right?" 

He doesn't know what it is about her saying that that makes his heart skip a beat. Maybe it's because she's in the middle of carrying him like a princess, and that he's so… _ so _close to her face… and her neck… and her collarbone… and her brea— 

He mumbles something incoherently and he can feel himself blush a deeper red. He hopes his slightly darker skin is able to hide it. 

But he knows it doesn't. 

So he tries to make himself look smaller by putting his head against the crook of her neck. It _ totally _isn't because he likes the feel of her skin against his.

Totally.

4.

When his leg is fully healed the first thing Byleth does is force him into a sparring match. 

_ "I have to whip you back into shape after your little vacation" _ She had said. 

And whip him back into shape she does. 

Their fight was a choreographed dance of lashes and thrusts. Claude shoots an arrow quickly, but Byleth quickly sidesteps it. He counters with another shot while backing up, but she deflects it with her sword. Claude knows the next thrust will be at his chest, so he responds by turning so that his armoured shoulder is facing her, and tries to sidestep her.

Maybe he had gotten rusty during recovery, because his agile movements were far too slow, and Byleth is able to hook a foot around his before he gets away. 

Byleth moves her leg and forces him to fall forward. 

He lands on his chest, and just as he's about to get up he feels her weight on his back, and one of his arms is folded behind his back to an uncomfortable angle. 

He grunts, before blowing an annoyed breath and closing his eyes. "I yield."

Byleth doesn't get off of him, but rather leans down to speak against his ear, her breath tickling his ear and neck.

"You've gotten slower, Claude. I think I'll need to make you run extra laps to get back into shape." 

"_Fffffffuck_."

He eyes shoot open. Was that him? That was totally him. That wasn't a grunt or a hiss. 

That was a _ whine. _A needy whine that was accompanied by his damn hips bucking.

Before he can try to save face he feels the weight on his back be lifted and Byleth stands above him. 

"You're _ that _ against running an extra lap or two?" She sighs as though she's dealing with a troublesome child, "No need to cry about it. Goodness. You really have been spending too much time with Hilda."

He hears her start to walk away, "Clean up and come to the dining hall. Lunch is ready. We'll discuss your performance then."

He stays there for a bit, completely motionless. He steadies his breathing and he hadn't realized that he heartrate had become so erratic. His heart skipped one, two, three beats when she leaned down to whisper in his ear. 

Of course, she didn't say anything arousing.

His mind was filling in _ many _blanks about what she could say to him. 

All of them _ filthy. _

And he didn't hear what she actually said. His body was too focused on… something else. Something hard. 

He always liked strong women. 

But he didn't know he liked women _ stronger _ than him.

He lies down there for a long time.

5.

It's late one evening, the only light in the library being the flickering candles that make shadows dance across the spines of century old books. 

Despite Ignatz's love for reading, dust had collected everywhere as far as the eye could see and cobwebs hung loosely around the books. In the little light available one can see dust float lazily in the air. The colour of the spine of the books had faded. Perhaps this was just a section of the library that was woefully underused. 

Claude had collected various books about tactics and strategy before sitting in his dusty little corner with Byleth. 

Extra tutoring.

That's what he said, anyway, when he asked her to accompany him to the library. Just all part of his plan to achieve his dream, after all he has to keep his mind tip top shape, he _ totally _doesn't want the extra bit of intimacy of being alone with her in the library. Extra studying will do his mind good. Even if he was absentmindedly just doodling stick figures killing each other. 

"What's a fundamental first step towards successful offensive tactics?" Byleth asks, circling around his table with a large book in her hands as she gives him an impromptu quiz. 

"Understanding the objective." He answers, this is the eighth question. For a question that's near the end it's painfully easy. Unless all units know where they need to go and what they're trying to accomplish, its kinda hard to launch a successful offensive, _ duh. _

"What is the key component of the pincer formation?" 

"The pincer forces must remain concealed." He could yawn at this. Obviously the enemy moves into the jaws of your pincer formation and then the ambush is initiated. Easy peasy.

"An early retreat may accomplish what?"

"It can cause the enemy to start a hasty chase that leads them straight into an ambush." It's a delicious dirty tactic he hopes he can deploy in the future. 

He cracks his neck and leans back in his chair. Byleth steps behind him and closes her book. 

"That's ten for ten, Teach. I'm getting pretty good at these pop quizzes." He'd turn his head and wink, but suddenly two arms are at either side of his face, hands placed on the table. He can't help but stare at his doodle sheet in front of him as Byleth leans in. Her presence was a heavy shadow that kept him still, so still he feels like a statue and suddenly very, very awake. Her heat against his nape peppered him with goosebumps and her breath was deliciously hot against his ear. 

_ "Good boy." _

Byleth's praise was rare. So rare that if she told someone a good job she _ meant _ it. It made all the more special.

But this… 

Oh, it was _ special _ alright. 

Just as fast, Byleth's arms disappear from his vision and she steps around the table. She sounds pretty annoyed when she utters a quick and surprised "_ Sothis" _ but Claude isn't in the right mind to think about that.

"I think that's it for the night. Get some rest." She says, voice quipped.

He doesn't dare glance at her retreating her. He knows his blushing a furious scarlet even if his skin was dark as coal he knows it wouldn't hide the heat on his cheeks. 

He brings his hand to his heart like the first time she made his heart skip a beat. 

His heart skipped a beat here…Among other things. His face isn't the only thing that's _ heated. _

He doesn't waste any time and doesn't clean the mess he makes when he suddenly stands up and causes papers and books to fly everywhere. He runs and runs and _ runs, _not sparing any glances to anyone he passes. 

Once back in his messy room, he slams the door shut and locks it tight. He doesn't waste any time kicking off his boots and taking off his pants and underwear in one smooth motion. 

It's hardly the first time he's masturbated to Byleth's form. First he had felt guilty. This was his _ Professor _ , his darling Teach. It was far, _ far _ too scandalous and dirty. But then the very thought had aroused him even more. The feeling of how it's forbidden, and even a bit sacrilegious. Besides, he had just recently celebrated his 18th birthday, it was healthy for a man to indulge in some carnal pleasures. That's what he told himself, anyway.

He takes a hold of his cock and begins pumping furiously, the other hand cupping his balls.

Their illicit affair would be a _ delicious _ secret. Hidden away from prying eyes but she'd probably push him in some corner or alleyway where they _ could _be caught but the thrill would excite him more.

She'd… bully him around a little. Maybe even smack him, he thinks, he _ hopes. _She'd use her superior physical strength against him, manhandle him to the bed and force him to gasp and writhe against the sheets.

"Nnng… haah… T-Teach..."

His hand moves so fast on his cock is just a blur and the friction makes his hip buck. 

She'd put him in a chokehold, barring any room of escape. Then she'd… she'd...grope him. Greedily. Forcefully. Play with his flesh as if he was a toy. _ Her _toy. 

His pre-cum begins to flow, and he stops pumping like a madman. He slowly spreads his semen over his penis with his thumb and fingers. He slides his fingers and thumb as if writing a letter over his member. He gently rubs the tip of his cock against the valley between his thumb and fore-finger. The combination between the slickness of the distributed pre-cum, and the fantasy playing in his head will probably give him closest experience of being inside a woman, inside of _ Byleth,_ as possible for now. 

Because of this he skips ahead in his fantasy, because _ of course _ he's already getting close to finishing before getting halfway what he thought he'd imagine. Byleth would flip him around and mount him, and her large breasts would be a wonderful weight in his hands as he reaches up to touch her. 

She'd call him a _ good boy. _

No… not call, she'd _ growl _it. Like when she told him to sit down. 

He slows his manipulation down at this time, and let the sensation build slowly. His fingers are incredibly slick and slide up and down his shaft. 

_ Good boy._

He cums with a soundless scream, uttering countless "Byleth's" and "Teaches" as he sees stars in his vision. Just when he ejaculates he raises to his toes and pushes his stomach out. The added strain on his stomach muscles greatly intensifies his orgasm and his entire body trembles violently. 

"_Teach!" _

When he's done, he's exhausted and slides down the door and lands on the floor. Panting heavily, and body now slicks with sweat, he sits here looking at the mess he made on the floor. 

"Hah… haaaaah…." 

He leans his head back against the door.

_ Fuck. I've got it real bad for her. _

He blows a breath to get some hair out of his eyes and grins. There’s… so many more things he could think of, of Byleth bullying him. There’s too many good scenarios to ignore.

_ And it won't be the only time I touch myself tonight, that’s for sure. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to write something about pre-timeskip Claude and I guess I got possessed and shat this thing out.
> 
> Hope ya enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude tries to woo Byleth.
> 
> Personally, my favourite is #4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be honest, I completely forgot whether Sothis only appears via dreams or whatever or if she can appear before Byleth/speak with her just whenever she likes. I decided to go with the latter, cause why not. It's much more fun to play around with.

Claude wants to be called a good boy again. He _ really _wants to be called a good boy again.

But more than that, he wants to tell his darling Teach how he feels. He’s spent countless moments trying to dissuade himself that he isn’t _ actually _ totally hopeless for his teacher. Byleth is just hot and he’s just a young guy letting off steam (and he’s been letting off _ a lot _of steam recently) and she just happens to be the main focus for every fantasy he’s had up until this point. 

But now, he thinks it wouldn’t be too bad in at least _ trying _to… woo her. Seduce her. If anything he’s endlessly curious to where that may lead to. 

It’s purely for scientific reasons, obviously. She’s an object of curiosity and he’s curious about her reaction. He just wants to study her. 

It’s just something to satiate his curiosity. 

Inwardly, he knows that’s a lie. But he won’t think about it that hard for now. Currently he’s walking through one of those seemingly endless halls this academy is littered with. 

—”They’re huge, man.”

He stops, that sounded like Sylvain. He peeks around a pillar to see the man in question gesticulating wildly in front of a very annoyed and vaguely perplexed Felix. Felix had actually transferred into Golden Deer House shortly after Byleth made her decision, and Claude’s pretty sure it was partly due to Felix wanting to avoid Sylvain like the plague. 

It didn’t really work, considering Sylvain transferred shortly after. The look on Felix’s face when he introduced himself to the class was nothing short of abject horror.

“Are you talking about some type of weapon? The sword she uses is quite large.” Felix says in an annoyed tone. 

“I’m talking about her _ honkers, _man.” Sylvain’s expression can only be described as smug since he clearly knows more than the swordsman.

“What?” And Felix still sounds annoyed. 

“Her _ badonkers _.”

“...What?”

“She’s got huge…” Sylvain leans in conspiratorially, “_ bazongas.” _ Just when Felix a hair's breadth away from punching Sylvain in the face, the red-head continues, “Honestly, she needs to get arrested for packing the biggest _ bahonkers _I’ve ever seen. They could smother someone.”

Something in that piques Felix’s interest, as he also leans in, “So they _ are _weapons, these… things you’re talking about?”

Sylvain wraps an arm around Felix’s shoulders with a shit-eating grin, “I ain’t telling ya what they are until you call them by their name, my man.”

Claude doesn’t know what’s more absurd, Sylvain trying his damnest to make Felix say some stupid word or the fact that Felix seems to genuinely not know they’re currently talking about some girls boobs.

Felix shakes Sylvain off and squints at him, “What could Byleth possibly have in her possession that could be dangerous? And something that smothers?”

Now it’s Claude that squints. Byleth? They’re talking about Byleth and her _ boobs? _

_ I mean… sure, they’re… big… _

‘Arrested for packing the biggest_ bahonkers _ I’ve ever seen,’ huh. 

He feels a pang of… something building up in his chest. What they’re discussing isn’t harmful, maybe just a little rude, but he doubts it’s something Byleth would care much about. Is it jealousy he’s feeling? No, it can’t be. It’s not as if Sylvain’s the only guy to have seen her chest and he’s sure as hell have never seen her chest without the armour she always wears. Is he angry that they’re, what, demeaning her? Again, he doubts Byleth would care much if she heard this. She takes these sort of things in stride. 

Whatever is bubbling inside of him is replaced by determination and readiness when Sylvain says, “Well, Felix, you might never know that. But I know I’m gonna try to score a date with our darling Professor.”

He doesn’t hear Felix’s scoff and him calling the red-head an idiot, because next Claude finds himself _ speedwalking — _What is he trying to do, look casual and desperate at the same time? — to where he thinks Byleth is currently at. 

Like hell he’ll let Sylvain seduce Byleth. He knows the red-head is much more experienced than Claude in that regard, if him having a new girlfriend every week is anything to go by, but he’s sure he has at least ten times the determination than the womanizer. As well as having better looks with a much more charming personality.

_ Only I can woo Teach. _

-

It’s a spur of the moment idea. He basically barges into the classroom she’s holed up in and asks if she wants to go for a walk. 

And then he basically drags her out of the room when she reluctantly agrees, after much egging on his side.

It’s a walk. A leisurely walk. A _ romantic _ walk, he hopes, because he’s trying to pick the most scenic routes.

But it’s also incredibly awkward.

Because Byleth just seems so… _ distracted. _

He wants to throw some pick-up lines at her, but it’s difficult because she keeps looking at things that just aren’t there. Like there’s someone annoying her, poking at her, and she _ really _looks like she wants to tell this apparent ghost to shut up and fuck off but she keeps her mouth tightly pursed. 

It reminds him of cats and dogs. Sometimes they just stare at the wall or some corner in the room or seem to hear something humans can’t. He was always told animals just did that because they can sometimes see things humans cannot. Something… otherworldly. It makes him wonder.

_ Is Teach the same? _

Well, she did once say she could see dead people when Lysithea once told her she looked far too distracted in class to be a Professor. He knows it was mostly to make the girl shut up, and now Lysithea always looks like she’s about to die whenever Byleth so much as looks blankly at nothing. 

It never really got to the point where it was unmanageable. Just a quirk, if anything. But now it looks as though this… ghost, or whatever it is, is doing its damndest to make Byleth just not enjoy her walk with him. 

_Seriously? Even ghosts are gonna_ _work against me?_

But Claude von Riegen was a man of determination, of _ resolve _ . He wasn’t just going to _ give up _because some intangible force was working against him. He’s gonna flirt and Byleth’s gonna like it, dammit, Claude was fucking good at weaving platitudes. 

“So, Teach—”

“Could you just be _ quiet. _” It wasn’t a question.

Claude von Riegen was also a gentleman. And gentlemen respected women’s wishes. 

So he clamps his mouth shut. 

And he secretly wants her to command him again, but that's an issue for another day.

Byleth suddenly stop walking and puts her hand on her mouth before sighing. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, “That, uh, that wasn’t meant for you.” Now she just looks like she wants to give herself a facepalm. 

And then they just stand there.

_ Well, this couldn’t be less awkward. _

He kicks at some rocks on the gravel and puts his hands behind his head, “Uh, no problemo, Teach. You’re obviously busy. We’ll, uh, take a walk another time, yeah?”

She nods, looking apologetic. And then they part. 

Claude spends the rest of the day in the library reading about ghosts. For scientific research, obviously. 

  


2.

He tries to do some planning for the next try. Spur of the moment ideas will _ not _work for Operation Woo Teach. Not if that means spectral beings will ruin the moment because apparently ghosts were very particular about the amount of effort that’s put into seduction techniques.

Planning seems to work to some degree, because she doesn’t seem very distracted when he invites her to a play. It's a drama, and also a romance which is why he choose it. To set the right _ mood. _ He knows which moves to pull on her during the movie. He's studied countless flirting manuels. He can almost hear Felix scoffing him, saying something like _ "While you were out wooing, I studied the blade" _for when next they spar because that's probably exactly something he'd say. 

He's read reviews on this play, because Claude von Riegen was a man who did _ research, _and the general consensus is that it's pretty good. The lights dim and the curtains part as someone relays the theatre etiquette spiel. When the play actually starts he shifts in his seat slightly because of his building excitement. 

He has this planned out. Naturally in the beginning he won't do anything, he'll let Byleth get comfortable. Gradually he'll start with the touches. Accidentally brush his hand over hers here, legs graze each other as he shifts in his seat there. And the classic yawn-but-actually-put-arm-around-her-soulder technique. When the play reaches its climax and the main characters professes their yearning love and adoration he'll… do the same, with an innocuous peck on the cheek, he thinks. The climax mainly depends on how receptive Byleth is to his touches. 

He's pretty sure she'll be fine with those types of advances. 99% sure. She's done some lingering touches of her own. He remembers she once grazed the back of his neck with her deceptively soft hand when she praised him over doing well in a mock battle. The touch definitely lingered longer than what was necessary. It was _ teasing. _ He makes _ extra _sure to excel in mock battles now. Trains like a madman whenever he can. 

He hopes he's been interpreting her advances correctly, but he likes to think of himself as someone who can read people pretty well. Even if Byleth usually makes him think he's just staring at a brick wall with how stumped she sometimes makes him. 

Anyway, the play. It starts and Claude plans out and practices one, two, three different moves in his head. 

-

The play is, to put bluntly, a complete disaster. 

At least for him it is. 

Because it's so fucking _ boring. _

So boring, in fact, that Claude thinks he might just cry. No wonder the only people who filtered in this theatre were balding seniors. But even then he's sure the audience are bored as shit as well. He's pretty sure the man next to him is sleeping. Or dead. One or the other. Even the actors looks bored. 

_ I can't bust a move when the atmosphere is like this! _Is the only thing filling his mind at the moment and he feels a nervous sweat begin to form on his brow.

He hadn't even been watching the play, rather he had been staring at the checkered floor and ceiling. But there are only so many games he can invent in his head when it came to staring at tiles. He counted them. Several times. The wall had chipped cream paint. Riveting. 

It felt like time was flowing like cement. It feels like a minute passes in an hour. Despite the fact that the theatre is full and a play is currently playing, the room feels emptier than a crypt. 

He looks at the actors. He's pretty sure they've yet to change the set. They're just sitting around talking but he finds he can't hear the words because he almost drifts into a daydream. 

Well, he's about to. Then he hears it. A yawn. Directly next to him. Flicking his eyes he sees Byleth yawning. 

_ Shit. _

He's clearly as bored as he is. This is a fucking _ disaster. _No man can woo a lady like this. 

But he tries to save face anyway, by doing his own yawn to do that totally flawless, no chance of failure technique of wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

He moves his arm and—

"I have to go pee."

The minute she whispers those words she stands and leaves. 

And Claude is left with his arm in mid-air before the person behind him asks him to put it down. 

_ Well then. _

It feels as though he just witnessed his smooshed ice-cream melting on a hot road. He just stares blankly in front of him. 

He continues his 1000-yard stare when Byleth returns. After a few minutes he turns to her, face still blank and asks in a monotone voice, "You want to ditch this farce and get some ice-cream?" 

And that's exactly what they do. 

He's never trusting film critics again.

3.

Is there was _ one _ thing he was good at planning, it was feasts. He also likes to consider himself an _ artist _in the kitchen, even if the majority of the time he's spent cooking it was spent making food laced with poison and with other less than savoury ingredients. 

_ Poison is still art, whatever. _

He looks at the table of confections in front of him. Tarts and cake. He always had a soft spot for baking, it was a science in of itself, and if he's honest with himself he thought he looked pretty damn good with an apron on. He knows Byleth has a bit of a sweet tooth, if her trying to sneakily eat chocolate in class every now and then was anything to go by. He remembers hearing Hilda joke that all the chocolate and sweets goes to her breasts.

_ Stop thinking of boobs, _he thinks, annoyed.

But he can’t. If there’s anything he wants to eat during this feast it’s some large, succulent melons.

He smacks himself with the wooden spoon he’s holding.

-

So he’s not _ really _going to plan an entire feast. He doesn’t have access to make anything spectacularly grand at the moment. So he settles with packing the tarts in a small box and sets off to his destination. 

She’s in the classroom again, but this time not looking like she was in the middle of conversing with someone. That’s a good sign. It also looks like she just finished writing a report. That’s an even better sign. Seemingly no distractions. He knocks on the open door and she nods at him to come in with a small smile. 

He likes her smiles, no matter how small. They used to be so rare, only things he could get a glimpse of. It was something he had to actively search for, but now her grins weren’t as elusive as a cryptid. And he’s not quite arrogant to claim it was all because of him, he knows his fellow Deer had just as much of a hand in getting her out of her shell as he had. There was something about his classmates and her becoming close that filled him with a special kind of warmth. It was a type of warmth that could only be described as a flame that was immune and oblivious to darkness and cold. A warmth that was a love heavier than that of friendship, something… familial. 

Claude steps in the classroom, the waning light filtering in the room as the sun begins to slowly set. 

“Hey Teach,” he says nonchalantly, “You’ve been stuck here for a while so I figured you’d be pretty peckish. Got you some tarts.”

She quirks a brow and leans back on her chair when Claude places the box on her table and he gets a chair of his own. He opens the box to set the two tarts out, there’s six in total. 

Her grin grows wider, “Wow, Claude, these look great! Where’d you get these?”

He puffs up his chest, “Yours truly made them. I’ll have you know I’m a killer in the kitchen.”

Both her brows raise from that and he mentally pats himself on the back for impressing her. 

He had initially planned to make this a lot… fancier. Actually make a large feast bathed in candlelight and rose petals. But he found he couldn’t stop himself from just going to Byleth after he had made the tarts since he wanted to see her as soon as he could. Besides there’s… a merit to having simple outings such as these. It’s intimate but in more of a casual way and he finds he quite likes that a lot, barring the annoying possibility of someone interrupting them, physical or spectral. 

Byleth takes a sniff at the tart, “Oh, I smell vanilla. Yum!”

Claude was about to take a bite of his own tart when his whole body stops. 

_ Vanilla? _

He blinks.

_ These were meant to be blueberry. _

His mind rapidly categorizes everything he’s done in the kitchen recently. 

_ Vanilla, vanilla… since when did I use vanilla? _

And then, it hits him. Wyvern tranquilizer has a very distinct vanilla smell. He made tarts to give to Lorenz, as a way to ‘make up’ for lacing his tea. He made them because Lorenz had framed one of his “I will not lace my classmates tea with laxatives” papers, the pompous prick. Though if Claude had to be honest, that would be something he would do as well. 

But he still wanted to get back at Lorenz. 

But right now, his mind is going on overdrive. He spent too much time thinking. Now Byleth is about to _ eat the fucking tranquilizer tarts fucking shit oh no- _

He _ was _going to stand up and smack the tart out of her hands. He wasn’t entirely sure how he would explain himself but that was a bridge he would cross when he got it. 

Except he wouldn’t be crossing that bridge any time soon because Byleth takes one big bite of the tart.

_ “Don’t—!!” _

And she swallows. Her eyes are wide from his sudden movement and yell, but, well, wyvern tranquilizer is renowned for how _ fast _it works on wyverns.

And it works _ much _faster on humans. 

Her eyes flutter for only half a second before she suddenly faceplants directly into the tart. 

And Claude feels as though there’s an invisible presence laughing at him. 

He gingerly takes her face out of the tart and tries positioning her in a manner that would be comfortable for her.

And he just… leaves. He tip-toes out of there for some reason and tells Marianne about it. His mind constantly screaming at him the entire time.

Byleth is out for an entire day after that.

And Claude has detention for a month. And if that wasn’t enough, Lorenz frames one of his “I will not put tranquilizer in food” papers. He even giftwraps it for Claude.

  


4.

  


Claude ditches the food for the next date — it is_ absolutely _a date because Claude is asking her out. Not platonic. No siree. It's romantic. Well, will be. Eventually. But it's still a date — and opts to go for a simple tea party since he knows how much she likes those. 

It's a date. 

A date that just involves her talking about his academic performance. 

_ It's a fucking date! _

Claude fully plans to lay it on thick with Byleth when she's done essentially reading out his report card. He made sure to get the atmosphere just right. Dusk was falling and crickets were beginning their symphony. Claude could feel the beginnings of the goosebumps filling his body from the evening chill. 

He had made sure set the table by a series of hedges with roses in them. Some of the green shrubbery further away now look almost black, silhouetted, colours muted, as if they had been drained away by an invisible hand.

But on their table, it was illuminated by just enough candles to make the scenery truly romantic. Shadows danced on the cups and flowers on the table, and he may have or may have not paid a violinist to play some music several metres away so that soft classical tunes could be heard.

_ Romantic atmosphere? Check. _

He checks her tea. Orange pekoe. Her favourite, and the steam emanating from the warm beverage.

_ Favourite tea? Check. _

He smells it. Smells like orange pekoe. He takes a teaspoon to taste some of it. Tastes like orange pekoe. He had made _ extra _ sure it wasn't getting mixed with other _ ingredients _when he was brewing it. He double checked. Triple checked. Quadruple checked. It's normal tea.

_ Tea not actually laced with laxatives and poison? Check. _

He had additionally made sure that _ no one _ would be interrupting them. He may or may not have threatened a certain idiot to stay away. With blackmail. Afterall, love was a battlefield, and it was a fight he was determined to win.

_ No chance for interruptions? Check. _

No chance of physical interruptions, anyway. He can’t predict whether or not Byleth will see or hear something he can’t again. He takes a look into a small pocket mirror to make sure his hair looked right. He practices his smile. He winks at himself. 

_ Good looks and charming personality? Checkity check. _

He quickly puts his accessory away when he hears footsteps in the distance. When Byleth rounds the corner he has to remember to breath and make a conscious effort to not swoon. 

She's wearing a light pink skirt that reaches just above her knees with matching pleated shoes. She has a short sleeved buttoned up blouse with ribbon around her collar in the same light pink. 

Damn.

She really looks like a Professor here, especially with the binder under her arm. 

And…

_ Aaaaand. _

Claude feels sweat start to form on his brow and pulls on his collar as inconspicuously as he could. 

_ S-She really does… _

He knew she was well-endowed. Even with her armour it was obvious. But in this, er, well-fitting blouse…

_ She really does have huge badonkers. _

Claude's hand curls into a fist and he has to physically stop himself from punching his own face. 

_ Romance, Claude! _ He hisses at himself internally, _ keep Sylvain out of this! She's not massive, it's not like they're bigger than her head… she's just.. supple... _

He might actually punch himself before the evening is over. He tries to cross his legs as casually as possible.

Byleth stops a moment to survey the scene before her. He knows she's not stupid or naive. He's sure she knows this is meant to be more intimate than a Professor meeting with her student to discuss grades. 

He sees her throat bob slightly as she no doubts steels herself for whatever is about to happen, and takes her seat. Her hair is braided. He wishes he could have braided her hair. Perhaps in the future—

He hears her clear her throat, "Hello Claude, I appreciate the… effort you went to setting up this meeting." Her eyes go to the tea and she gives him a dubious look.

His face falters slightly, “I swear it’s normal tea, Teach!” He whines dramatically. 

To his surprise she actually takes a sip of the tea, then deeming it totally normal she sits down and opens her binder, "This should probably be pretty short, nothing much to discuss."

He smiles. _ Good. That means I can start wooing her pretty quickly. _His smile grows wider knowing that she apparently still trusts him enough to imbibe in any food he gives her.

He keeps his tone casual, "Getting straight to business, eh, Teach? Can't we just enjoy the evening?" 

Another sip of tea, and the music in the distance starts an easy tempo. From the flick of her eyes it's obvious Byleth notices, and is curious. But she doesn't ask about it when her eyes flick back to him.

He winks. 

She smiles at him. 

Then she goes in Professor mode, all authority and discipline, "Other than the hiccup with you cheating on the tactics test," he remembers how she told him to sit down. He wants her to command him again and he pinches himself on the thigh to distract himself from that train of thought, "You've been doing very well. You excel in mock battles, though you do seem to enjoy deploying some dirty tactics." 

He shrugs, "I admit that pretending to be wounded to lure in Marianne was a dirty trick, but actual warfare is hardly ever clean." 

She snickers, "True. But you did give her quite the fright, if anything it was a good lesson for her."

Claude leans back in his chair and opens his arms wide as if in triumph, before setting his hands behind his head.

"Well, well, Teach. I'm giving lessons now? Watch out, I'm coming after your job."

"Mhm. Another thing I've taken note of is that you seem quite restless in class every now and then," she quirks a brow, "Can't very well take my job if you can't stay still can you?"

He leans in, forearms now resting on the table, "Luckily I've got you to teach me resistance and self-control. You've got some job security for now." Another wink. 

They continue like that for a while, falling into easy conversation about his schooling. Every now and then exchanging fleeting flirts. 

_ Those are flirts, right? _ He asks himself as they joke about him taking her job again, _ That's totally flirting. The sexual tension is through the roof. _

Sweat prickles at his nape.

_ At least it's getting through me… _

He pinches his thigh again. Then he stops. If anything, that’s making him more excited.

They eventually finish talking about his school grades, Byleth closing the binder and huffing a content sigh after she finishes her tea. The violinist begins a new tune, a classic often played at fancy Galas. 

He squares his shoulders and straightens his back. _ Perfect. Time to get this show on the road. _

Byleth stretches then, her arms going above her head, hands laced together, back arched and… ample bosom put forward.

Claude tries not to look. Goddess does he try. But he's only 18 and jacked up on hormones and as it turns out he's really, really, _ really _ into boobs. Specifically those attached to Byleth. Specifically those that are just _ straining _against the fabric of her blouse and look as though they just want to be free-

Something hits him square on the forehead. 

And it hits him with enough force that he reels back, the two front legs of his chair suddenly suspended in the air. It feels as though he's teetering on the edge of falling flat on his back for a solid 30 seconds before the two front legs hit the ground and he's stable again. He touches his forehead, whatever hit him will leave its mark. Small… round… 

_ Holy shit. _

A button. A fucking _button _hit him. He looks at her. More specifically, he looks at her chest. 

_ B-boobs… _

He sees a window of cleavage, her skin looking even milkier on her breasts. He sees just a _ hint _ of black lace and _ holy shit she's wearing a sexy bra isn't she— _

The lovely window displaying her _ honkers _is covered by her hand and he looks up to see she's awkwardly scratching her head with her other hand and laughing bashfully as if her breasts didn't just launch an artillery strike against him. 

"G-Goodness!" She says shyly, "Are you alright? I, I, uh, I don't know what to say!" She laughs nervously and both her hands go to cover her chest. He isn't used to her being flustered so it makes him even _ more _ flustered. He didn't even know she was capable of being flustered.

"I — uhm. Uuuuh," Claude continues to mumble incoherently, mind reeling and face burning like hot coals. How the fuck does a guy recover from something like this? Sylvain _ and _ Felix were right! The _ badonkers _are big and are lethal weapons.

So lethal that he can't think a fucking coherent thought at the moment. He had planned to open up his wooing with lines like _ "Your eyes are like the ocean" _ but all he can think of is _ "Your boobs are as big as the ocean" _ and he wants to curl in a ball and die. 

He can only murmur more "uh's" and "um's" when Byleth excuses herself to leave, probably to either fix her blouse or get a new shirt but he knows she won't be coming back because she said goodnight. 

He can't stop thinking about her _ bazongas. _The violin music in the distance almost sounds as if it's mocking him now.

He faceplants on the table with a resounding _ clunk. _

And if his hands just happened to move to his crotch and his zipper just happened to get unzipped.

Well.

It _ was _ a very private area.

5.

Claude von Riegen, renowned schemer extraordinaire and totally the greatest archer who ever lived, was in a predicament. 

No, no. This is a completely separate predicament from his love woes. 

He feels a slight sting on his wrists and ankles, the rope around them _ deliciously _tight and the distinct lack of power he's feeling right now is-

Anyway. 

Claude von Riegen, renowned schemer extraordinaire and totally the greatest archer who ever lived, liked to get tied up. 

It's a shame he discovered this fact about himself when he's been kidnapped by bandits and held for ransom.

-

It all started when Hilda furiously approached him after one of their classes.

"Claude. You are a clod," she snips. 

He cracks his neck, "Nice to see you too, Hilda." 

The girl in question places her hands on her hips and annoyingly taps her foot on the ground. 

"After _ all _ the effort I went through to pretty up Byleth for you! _ You," _ she points at him accusingly, "should be groveling at my feet, thanking me for putting her in a shirt that was a size too small!" 

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he looks at her dubiously. Of course. She was wearing pink. _ Of course _ it was Hilda’s idea. 

"Have I… been that obvious?" 

She merely gives him a _ Dude, really? _look. So, he was obvious. But he supposed inviting her out to dinners and plays wasn't exactly very subtle. Obviously Hilda would zero in on that like a hawk eyeing it's prey. If there was one thing she liked, it was meddling in people's business. Especially in her friend's business.

He heaves a dramatic _ awww, _"Lookit you, having so much motivation for something," he pretends to wipe tears from his eyes, "Ah, they grow up so fast." 

Inwardly, he's screaming. How much _ does _ Byleth know? She's gotta know. She's not an _ idiot. _Especially after Hilda prettying her up. 

_ Fuck man, she called me a good boy, remember? _

And damn does he want her to call him that again. Multiple times. But that's beside the point. 

_ She must be waiting for me to get my shit together. Or laughing at me in private, either one. _

He shakes himself from his reverie and looks at the girl giving him a pointed glare. 

He sighs. 

"Well I know you well enough that you probably won't give up now, even if you're a lazy ass." He puts his hands on his hips, mimicking her stance, "So, what do you want me to do?"

Her face immediately lights up, a smile reaching her ears and eyes glittering with mischief. It almost activates his flight or fight senses.

_ What have I gotten myself into? _ He thinks glumly. 

-

That night, she drags him to some random boulder in the middle of the forest. _ "Our own secluded heaven" _ she had said, _ "Secrecy is key. You want to surprise her after all." _

He didn't know what he was expecting when she said that. 

But he supposes he really _ should _have expected she'd drag him here to make accessories. 

He awkwardly tries threading beads around a string to make a bracelet, finding himself more and more frustrated with how… _ amateur _the whole thing looks. 

"Every girl's gotta have an accessory or two," Hilda cheerfully says, "And I noticed Professor is woefully lacking some."

She eyes him eagerly, "_ And _ since you got a look at some cleavage — if her returning the blouse without a button is anything to go by," he doesn't miss her smirk when he feels a blush forming, "I think you should return the favour."

He merely tilts his head at that, still focused on his damnable bracelet.

"I think _ you _ should unbutton your shirt a little. Show some of your own cleavage!" She squeals out the word and squirming excitedly. 

He finally looks up and gives her a skeptical look.

"Hilda, are you coming onto me?"

She blows a raspberry and waves her hand, "Pfft, you wish. You're not my type, baby-face.” Then her voice cooes dreamily, “I like the cute studious type more. Especially the ones with glasses." 

_ B-baby-face? And is she talking about Ignatz? _

Before he can entertain that thought for a second longer, Hilda leans in to look at his handiwork and he instinctively hides his bracelet away from her view. She pouts. 

"Hey! Lemme see!"

He knows it's ultimately pointless to hide it away from her, but it doesn't stop him from feeling embarrassed about showing her his creation. 

She inspects it, then smiles at him. "Looking good!"

He rolls his eyes, "It looks like it was made by a three year old." 

She shrugs at that, taking his bracelet in her hand delicately as if it were a priceless artifact. 

"Sure, your colour scheme could use some work. And you _ really _can't make Byleth's fashion choices much worse than it already is. But you know what they say, it's the thought that counts."

He's about to scoff at her when she continues, her eyes emitting almost… a motherly glow to them. It's strangely comforting. 

"I know Byleth is someone who appreciates effort, Claude. She's not the type to be wow'ed because you bought her something expensive. She'll like some cheap bracelet precisely because _ you _made it for her." 

He can't help but stare at her after that, mouth slightly agape and she looks positively triumphant at being able to apparently stump him like that. 

_ Damn. She might have a talent for this sort of thing afterall. _

His vigor is renewed by her words and he nods at Hilda and the two of them begin a new bracelet. He tries following her examples, but there's clearly some talent in accessory in beading since his never quite come out looking as polished as hers. 

He experiments with many different types of beads and colour combos, but eventually decides to go for a more minimalistic approach in his design. White and gold, with the middle being a head of a dear - he didn't even know beads came in animal shapes - and if he's honest with himself it actually looks a bit _ regal. _

He's… kinda proud of himself. He can't help but smile at his creation.

Making the bracelets took hours and now it's the dead of night. Pitch black and both he and Hilda had intermittently checked their oil supply for their lantern. Claude looks up and in the serenade of the black, the stars are a choir; lights that sing in infinite patterns. The night sky was almost a warm blackness that hugs you and it holds a softness that calls the body and soul to rest.

A long, loud yawn on Hilda's part signifies it was time to go. 

He helps pack away her supplies, putting the bracelets in his pocket at Hilda's behest. Once done, he speaks.

"Thank you, Hilda. I really appreciate you helping me like that. And it was… fun, truly," he's pretty sure the smile he gives her is one of the most genuine he's had in a while. 

She flicks her hand at him as she slings her bag over her shoulder, "Don't sweat it, just know that Hilda always knows be- Ouch!" 

She flinches violently, hand quickly clapping on her neck. Claude hurriedly makes his way to her side to inspect her neck, seeing her prick something out of her skin.

"W-What the…?" She sounds awfully… Drowsy. 

It's a dart. 

_ Shit. _

Hilda's eyes flutter and she falls limply to the ground.

"Hilda? Hilda!" He shakes her and then feels a brief sharp pain penetrate his neck. He quickly takes the dart out of his neck but his body is overcome with the same drowsiness that affected Hilda. 

_ Sleep darts?! Who—? _

And then, the world goes black.

-

Claude awakes with a groan and he knows his neck will be feeling stiff for a while. He moves to his side and finds his wrists and ankles bound tightly by a thick rope. The floor is damp, and when he manages to sit upright on his knees he surveys his surroundings. He sees light filter in just barely from small windows that crown the room but the room is mostly dark. Focusing his eyes he sees multitudes of wooden racks that hold the occasional bottle and there’s a distinct musky smell in the air.

_ Definitely in someone’s wine cellar. _

From the general lack of bottles and how he can feel himself breathing in dust, he assumes he’s under an abandoned farmhouse. This basement was probably the only salvageable thing about the farm, from looking at the edges of the windows Claude can see the cellar is constructed from quarry rock and its walls are likely thicker than a castle’s. He knows the farmhouse, or what’s left of it anyway, would have been made of wood — such is the building practices of this country. And wood degrades. The house they’re under most certainly looks abandoned, broken down and disused. It gives Claude hope. There likely isn’t an excess of abandoned buildings in this area in general, and this hopefully means they’ll be easier to find. 

He hears a groan and he turns his head to see Hilda beginning to stir from her own slumber in another corner of the room, so he hobbles his way to her side. 

“Hilda?” he whispers, not knowing if the bandits are near, “Are you okay?” 

Her eyes shoot open, probably remembering the events of the night prior, and she immediately sits upright with panicked breaths. 

“Caude!” She hisses and he tries his best to calm her down by shushing her. 

“Relax, Hilda. Whoever took us are obviously amateurs. Judging by the light coming in from the window it’s around midday, and most kidnappers want their captors awake pretty soon. They’ve overdosed us, no one being here shows that too; it shows they don’t know when we’ll wake up. No doubt everyone’s looking for us now. Not only that, we’re in some abandoned home which probably sticks out like a sore thumb because there aren’t many abandoned buildings in this area in the first place. We’ll be found pretty soon if you ask me.” 

He’s not sure how well Hilda can see him in the damp dark, but he smiles at her as best as he can in this situation.

She inhales deeply, “Yeah, Claude, amateurs who happened to get the drop on us,” and boy does she sound frustrated, “but yeah, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine, I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re _ FINE _.” Her voice gradually becomes louder and louder until she’s borderline shouting and Claude tries gentle shushing her until there’s the distinct sound of heavy footsteps walking above them. 

Both their mouths clamp shut. 

There’s a _ clank _noise and some rustling when the cellar door is opened, and a three individuals come down the stairs. In the light of their lantern, he can’t see their faces. They’re all covered, only their eyes showing. But he can tell there’s two men and one woman.

“Well, well,” the one in the middle holding the lantern says, and Claude assumes he’s on the older side since his voice is rough and gravelly, “Looks like our sleepin’ beauties are finally awake.” From the way he carries himself, shoulders squared and legs apart, he clearly thinks of himself as important. Probably the leader. Claude honestly wouldn’t be surprised if this was a family business they’ve got going on here.

“Hey,” Claude tries to keep his tone casual to hide his building nervousness, “Is this bed and breakfast? Your accommodations are lacking but I think you can make it up with some good grub.” He can tell Hilda is giving him a pointed, and slightly confused, glare but he ignores it and keeps his gaze squarely on his captors. 

The older man takes out a chair and sits on it, nodding at the woman bandit. It’s some sort of signal because she walks back upstairs and Claude briefly wanders if they’re actually going to get some food before he realizes it’s much more likely she’ll keep lookout or…

_ Get some torture implements… Yikes. _He tries to banish that very thought and forget about it.

“You two are from that fancy school. I can tell you’re rich.” The bandit says.

Ah. So it’s money they want. 

Claude shifts his knees so he’s facing Hilda and he leans in closely to her confused face. He whispers as if they aren’t directly within earshot of his captors, “Hey, how much gold do you have in your pockets right now?”

Hilda’s lips quiver slightly and the poor girl looks as though she’s about to cry, “F-Five gold, why?”

He shifts back to face the bandits, back once more straight and shoulders squared. 

“Our budget is five gold.”

Claude is just barely able to register the other bandit rapidly moving towards him before he feels the hard, painful sensation of the guy’s boot meeting his face. He’s kicked hard enough that he falls to the side with a sharp gasp and he can hear Hilda worriedly cry out his name.

That’s gonna leave a bruise.

More specifically, considering where the guy hit him, he’s gonna have a black-eye.

“Claude!” Hilda hisses out again, wobbling towards him on her knees, “Don’t provoke them!” she whispers more frantically than before. 

On the contrary, provoking them is exactly what he wants. The younger man kicking him shows a large degree of impatience on his part, and that means there’s plenty of room for error for Claude to exploit. He’s already begun working on getting himself out of the rope around his wrists. There’s some good knots there, but Claude’s been through better because Judith had taught him exactly how to get out of situations like these. 

Growing up, he didn’t have the nicest of peers. His mixed heritage always put him in some degree of danger and now being the leader of the Alliance meant he had to prepare for situations such as these. 

So, he’ll keep provoking. Because eventually his hands will be free and he knows he’ll be able to exploit the bandit’s poor form. 

It’s a shame that in the back of some dark corner of his mind is just thinking _ hey this feels kinda nice _ every time he even so much as moves his hands and legs. He never had this… issue whenever he practiced escaping situations like these, but now he can only assume it’s because he’s got the hots for a certain ex-merc and _ she’d totally tie me up and bully me aro- _

_ Anyway. _

Now _ really _ wasn’t the time to be thinking of his but if anything at least he’s got some new masturbatory material for when he gets out. Because _ clearly _ most important fucking thing that’s come out from being kidnapped is self-discovery.

He sits back up, and the man who kicked him goes back to his original spot and if he could see their mouths he’s sure the older one must be smirking at him. He continues fiddling with the rope around his wrists. From the corner of his eyes he sees that Hilda’s expression is one that’s more serious, and her body language is decidedly less nervous with how she looks at her captors head on.

She must have caught onto his plan, he doubts she’ll be able to untie her own knots, but he’s sure she’ll try to follow his lead now. 

The older bandit speaks.

“We’ve already sent out letter to your school, every day they don’t send us the money someone’s finger is going in the mail.”

They sent a _ letter _to the academy? These people really were amateurs! No doubt Lorenz will be able to hone in on the type of paper they used, and since the man was so well-versed in sending letters to shit-talk other nobles he’s practically an expert on different types of parchment and ink that are specific to different regions. 

Hilda rolls her eyes and tries her own provocation, “And I’m sure that seemed like a good plan when you wrote it up. And sending a finger everyday you don’t get your ransom? Talk about clichéd!” Claude can tell she’s still nervous despite her words when she trails off into awkward laughter.

The older bandit steps up from his chair and makes his way to Hilda and Claude can feel his entire body tense when the man grabs a hold of one of her twintails, her pink hair now caked in mud and dirt. Hilda lets out a small frightened squeal and seals her eyes shut as the man’s grip on her hair forces her to stand on her toes. 

“That’s some mighty fine hair you got there, girl. Must’ve taken years to grow out. Instead of fingers maybe I oughta start with shearing these twintails off.”

Hilda says nothing, keeps her eyes shut, and purses her lips in discomfort. 

Nuh uh. 

No way.

Screw the guy that kicked him in the eye, this dude has made it far and beyond Claude’s shit list. He doesn’t care if his own face is going to be caved in by the end of this debacle, but _ no one _will lay a finger on his fellow Deer if he has anything to say about it.

“Hey, fuckhead,” he spits, “You see his braid on my head? That’ll get the point across way more efficiently than the half-baked scheme you’ve currently got.”

The other bandit looks like he’s about to make his way over and kick him in the face again when the older man lifts his hand up to make him stop in his tracks. The bandit lets go of Hilda’s hair and she falls to the ground with a grunt and he strolls over to Claude as if he has all the time in the world. 

Which, in turn, lets Claude take a good look at the knife on sheathed in the man’s boot.

_ Perfect. _

His bindings are already feeling loose enough he thinks he could deck the guy, but he waits for the right moment. 

The man tugs at his braid, “Yeah? What’s so special about this? About _ you _, a dirty Almyran?”

Claude snorts, “Clearly you’re not very world weary if you don’t know what that means,” he tries to give his most smarmy and condescending smile, “It’s common knowledge, my guy.” 

He backhands Claude but the force isn’t strong enough to make him fall on his side this time.

Still stings like a bitch, however. And not in a good way. 

The bandit grabs hold onto his braid again and pulls on it and leans down, forcing Claude to get uncomfortably close to his face. Despite his mouth being covered, Claude can still smell his rancid breath. 

“Enlighten me, Almyran trash.”

Seems like _ someone’s _got issues with his ethnicity. Kidnapping, holding someone for ransom, assault, and now racism. Claude’s just finding less and less reasons to feel sorry for this guy when he inevitably shanks him. 

“It _ means _ I’m damn important, dumbass. A symbol of _ royalty _ so taking it off would be much more of an insult _ .” _It’s a lie, mostly, but he makes sure to spit it out, and he glances to his side to see Hilda sitting on her rear, body slightly forward, legs bent to her chest and expression focused. 

She’s ready to use those strong thigh muscles to pounce if need be. 

And Claude thinks this is as good as a moment they’ll get. His hands are free and his face is close to the bandit’s, and just when said bandit is about to say something Claude headbutts him. The younger guy is about to make his move when Hilda suddenly uses her leg muscles to propel herself against him, knocking him over. 

Claude knows her distraction won’t last long with her limbs bound, and he doesn’t want bandit #2 to attack her, so in the chaos he quickly grabs into the knife from the older man’s boot and with a quick aim he shoves it in his throat. Not wanting to waste time watching the guy gurgle and die, he quickly cuts the binds on his ankles and makes his way to the second bandit who has thrown Hilda off at this point.

And he _ would _ have painted the floor red with the guy’s blood, but there’s a shrill scream that echoes throughout the cellar that is soon drowned out by a harsh ear-splitting screech emitted by a large predator. It’s distinct, blood-curdling and spine chilling and makes everyone stop dead in their tracks. Claude knows that sound. It’s a _ wyvern. _

And the sound is soon accompanied by three more at the bandit upstairs obviously becomes surrounded, and there’s a cacophony of yelling before the cellar door is literally blasted open by fire and that’s followed by a familiar flurry of white and blue hair that comes rushing down the stairs.

“Hilda! Claude!” from the scared tone of voice he knows it’s Marianne.

Hilda lifts her head up from the ground, a big smile now gracing her features “Marianne! Lysithea!”

Before the bandit can even form a response or try to take either one of them hostage, he’s blasted several feet away by a wind spell and he hits the wall, hard. The kidnapper safely knocked out, the two girls quickly runs to Hilda and Claude makes his way to cut off her bindings. 

Marianne and Hilda tightly hug one another, each of them reveling in the other’s warmth. Claude can hear shuffling from up stairs followed by someone else calling their names in a worried tone. 

And he can tell it’s Byleth’s voice. 

His mind goes blank for a split second, and then the only thing he can think of is that _ wow I must look like shit with his bruise on my face. _

And then the next thing he thinks about is that he _ did _get a good look of cleavage, and Hilda did suggest he should return the favour. And, well, Claude believes in equality. 

He unbuttons his shirt, just a tad. Not too much and not too little. 

Byleth makes her way to the stairs and upon seeing him she rushes over to him with such speed he thinks she’s going to tackle him to the ground. 

Well, she _ almost _tackles him to the ground, as Claude stumbles backwards slightly when she embraces him in a tight hug. Her touch made the room warmer somehow, or perhaps it’s because he can feel his face heating up from feeling her arms around him. Either way, it makes his heart flutter, and he breaths more slowly as he melts into Byleth’s as every muscle loses its tension.

He _ really _doesn’t want to separate, but when they do he has to bite back a whine. 

Byleth puts her hand against his cheek and he unconsciously leans into her touch, more warmth pooling in his gut. 

“You’re hurt,” she says, sounding more hurt than he’s feeling right now. 

He shrugs, “I like to think this bruise will give me more character.”

Then she looks down at his chest, and rather than developing a shade of pink on her cheeks like he hopes her eyes goes as wide as dinner plates and her voice becomes… scared. 

“They — They didn’t… They didn’t touch you did they?”

He blinks.

Right.

Kidnapped and held in some dinky basement for about a day only to see him disheveled with his shirt open. Of course she would think _ that _happened.

He would give himself a facepalm, but from the corner of his eye he can see Hilda’s done just that after she and Marianne separated. 

_ Fucking A, Claude. Genius move there. _

In his defense, he didn’t think he’d opened his shirt enough to suggest that happened. But, well, evidently he isn’t very good when it comes to planning wooing tactics. He should stick to thinking on the battlefield. 

He shakes his head fitfully, putting his hands on Byleth’s shoulder in reassurance, “No, No, absolutely not, Teach. Besides I shanked the one guy before he could make much of a move on me.” He points to the bandit’s limp form, “Great timing, by the way. I see you’ve got a knack for this sort of thing, Teach.”

Hilda bounces to his side, “Yeah, Professor! You should have seen it, he managed to untie himself while his hands were behind his back. And then he headbutted that one guy and saved me!” She excitedly says, eyes flicking between the two of them. 

Clearly, Hilda has promoted herself to professional wingwoman.

Byleth’s expression becomes more calm, and she nods. 

“I see,” her eyes look soft, “good work, Claude. Now, let’s get you two home, yeah? I think we should have a feast for you two before we talk more about what happened and let Marianne take a proper look at your injuries.”

He feels himself grow even warmer at her praise, it may not be the _ good boy _he had hopes to hear but he’ll take what he can get. Hilda squeals excitedly at the prospect of getting food, and she and Marianne happily make their way upstairs, arms interlocked, followed by Lysithea who rolls her eyes dramatically. Claude’s surprised Marianne came along for the rescue mission, but considering how close she and Hilda seem to be it should be a no brainer.

The girls leave, and more soldiers come down to secure the other bandit before hauling him up the stairs with the dead body, leaving him and Byleth alone. 

Byleth sighs heavily. 

“Seteth is going to expect a mountain of paperwork for this.”

Claude puts his hands behind his head and grins cheekily, “Good thing you’re an expert in sitting on your ass all day writing stuff.” Byleth pretends to be offended, and lightly punches him on the shoulder. 

“Ugh, I hate you sometimes.”

“It’s not good to lie to yourself, Teach.”

“I’m also going to have to train you harder if these amateurs were able to get the drop on you,” there’s a small pause, “Whip you back into shape. Again.”

His heart skips a beat at that and his mind briefly entertains the idea of getting kidnapped again if it means Byleth could manhandle him more. He has to physically stop himself from moaning a _ Yes please. _

She then huffs lightly, her expression turning more serious, “I’m glad you’re okay. Truly. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. Or Hilda.”

He can tell the ‘Or Hilda’ part is tacked on the last second to avoid looking so lovey dovey. But he finds he can’t make a sarcastic comment about it, not with his heart feeling like it’s about to burst out of his chest. So he laughs nervously instead. 

“Well. Let’s head out, hmm? You can ride with me,” Byleth says. 

She turns, and just as she begins to walk away he has a spur of the moment decision and grabs onto her wrist. Before she can respond when she faces him he blurts out, “I want to give you something, Teach.”

He knows she’s going to ask _ “Right now?” _so he continues, “H-Here,” he hastily brings out the bracelet in his pocket and he notices some of the beads are cracked, “It’s kinda the reason why Hilda and I got caught, haha. We were making… stuff last night. I-I made this for you.”

She blinks at him owlishly, and looks down at the accessory. Then, she wordlessly takes it out of his hands to put it on her wrist. It doesn’t match with her outfit - really, nothing matches with her outfit - but she handles it as if it’s the most precious of jewels. 

She looks at him, eyes filled with nothing but warmth and Claude can see the beginnings of a small blush forming, “Thank you, Claude. This means a lot, truly. I really appreciate it.”

This wasn’t how he planned to give this to her. He was planning a lot more pomp and circumstance, but, well, maybe spur of the moment ideas weren’t so bad after all. Especially when she looks at him like that, a look that makes him feel as though he’s floating on a cloud. 

_ Even better than when she calls me a good boy, that’s for sure. _

When they leave, he ignores Byleth’s questioning gaze when he brings the rope with him.

-

Claude holds onto Byleth as they fly on a wyvern back to the academy. He’s holding onto her tighter than what’s necessary, and his face is buried in the crook of her neck as if he’s scared but he finds he relishes too much in feeling her warmth to care about how he looks like. 

Ironically being kidnapped resulted in his most successful wooing to date. He still plans to lay it thick on Byleth on the coming days to show how he feels. Go even fancier and more bombastic, just because he can. And also because he finds he’s had… strangely a lot of fun with these hare-brained schemes. He won’t be Byleth’s student forever but he’ll keep trying even after graduating.

_ Not like she’s disappearing or anything after I graduate. There’ll be plenty of opportunities for me to fuck up on trying to woo her. _

For some reason, something gnaws at the back of his head at the thought of her disappearing.

But he ignores it. It’s not relevant, not in this moment of him holding onto her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're at all curious about Byleth's bazongas, look up an artist named Himura Kiseki. She's somewhere around Kouhai-chan's size (the office lady.)
> 
> What? I'm just a gal that likes big honkers.
> 
> Hope ya enjoyed! Maybe I'll do a 5 times in Byleth's POV sometime. 5 times she teases him or something, idk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Byleth teases Claude. Takes place during the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I FINALLY write something in Byleth's POV baybeeeee.

1.

Byleth did not trust the monastery. More specifically, she did not trust Archbishop Rhea or Seteth. Something about them rubbed her the wrong way and she liked to think her intuition was pretty good. Jeralt had always hammered into her to have faith her instincts and one didn't make it very far as a mercenary by blindly trusting people, even if they were the high and mighty Church. 

_ Especially _if they were the high and mighty Church. If being a mercenary all her life taught her anything, it was being put in that position of almost unfathomable power made someone even more untrustworthy. 

So when the ever pristine and lovely Lady Rhea had offered her, some lowly mercenary who had no experience in teaching haughty nobles anything, a fucking _ job _ at the academy her Bullshit Metre went _ ding. _

But Byleth was a creature of curiosity. She had her own goals, one of which involved figuring out who her new headmate was, and she was sure the answer involved the monastery. And she wanted to know what they were hiding. And Rhea and Seteh were _ definitely _ hiding something. Rhea might come off as kind and benevolent but beneath Byleth could see a searing coldness in her eyes. Flayn was sweet, but she was _ totally _hiding something in that ridiculous poofy hair of hers, and Byleth wanted to touch her hair to find her secrets, not because she looked so soft and fluffy. Totally not that.

And since they so conveniently invited her into their little posse she figured digging up dirt will be all the easier. She was going to figure out about this Divine Pulse that was forced upon her. 

So, that meant choosing a House. A House that could best assist her in her efforts of snooping and _ scheming. _Edelgard at first seemed like the best choice. Disciplined and Byleth inwardly considered her a Bad Bitch, but in the most complementary way possible. Dimitri was well-spoken as well, though she couldn’t stop thinking how dumb his hair looked when she first met him. 

And then they kissed her ass. Practically begged her to join their houses. It left her with a bad taste in her mouth, as a mercenary people who were strangely invested in you and wanted to get on your good side as desperately as possible were bad news. And then there was Claude, who was entirely casual and didn’t try to actively recruit her. 

So she went with him. The Golden Deer. She figured that she’ll act like a puppet of the monastery and then find out what they’re hiding. And if she was honest with herself, she quite liked hearing the mutterings and gossip she heard of herself. The Ashen Demon. A nifty moniker. She liked it when people feared her.

She likes Claude. He hides his emotions through fake smiles and false words, and because of that she likes him through principle. One thing Jeralt had made sure to also hammer into her was to show no one what you were thinking. Showing your tells was a weakness to be exploited. So she mastered her poker face—and she liked to think she was a killer poker player, when she wasn't out doing dirty work gambling was her main source of income—and kept a blank face no matter what people said to her. She thought she and Claude were kindred spirits in a way, trained in the art of deception and outcasts in their own community. 

There was bias in her choice, no doubt. But she also justified it knowing that when it came to scheming Claude was undoubtedly the best. He played dirty, and she did too. Edelgard and Dimitri seemed like they'd be too by the books and Byleth didn't follow any rules. She needed someone who could think outside the box and who was willing to break a few bones to get what they want. The second she found out he had been eavesdropping on her conversation with Rhea and Seteth she knew she had her man. Troublemakers were her kind of crowd.

She'll play the role of Teach, gain the trust of some individuals here and there, and if need be tear the Church down to get the dirty secrets she desired. Easy peasy. She's done espionage against high ranking officials before. All redacted info, of course. Top secret stuff. No sharing.

It's just that… she didn't quite anticipate how much she would enjoy this job. How much… affection she'd develop for her students and this amnesiac ghost girl in her head.

And how much she reveled in teasing a certain fellow schemer. 

-

The first few weeks on the job were… stressful. Stressful in the sense she had to learn how to _ teach _ after being handed the job on the spot. She didn't even know the workings of the Church but Claude was kind enough to go on a spiel about it after an amused huff. She sure as hell didn't know how to do lectures so she winged it at first, to even more amusement from Claude and the annoyance of Lysithea and Lorenz who made their discontent well-known. 

So in a split second decision she made a new form of teaching. Every student had to wash their own dishes and they formed shifts with who would clean the classroom after lectures and polish the weapons. They became something of a laughing stock after that, how could these proud nobles (and two commoners, but no one really cared about their feelings funnily enough) be debased into becoming _ servants, _how truly cruel on Byleth's part.

Raphael, Marianne and Ignatz were no problem, taking up the jobs with no complaints. Leonie complained, saying she didn't come to the academy to be a scullery maid but stopped her whining when Byleth soundly defeated her in a duel. Lysithea made the occasional snide remarks but Byleth either had to mention her personal ghost haunting her or that doing chores was a part of adulthood to get her working. 

Lorenz was surprisingly easy to shut up. All she had to do was mentioned something that it was to build humility and responsibility, which in turn would make one a better noble. The hardest person to get to work was undoubtedly Hilda, always making the same old excuses. And trying to get Marianne to do her work, who always shyfully agreed. Byleth made sure to give the pink-haired girl many hours of detention and extra training. 

And she believed what she said. Humility and responsibility. One couldn't be a good soldier if they couldn't take care of themselves and Byleth didn't have time to deal with spoiled brats.

_ When did I get so invested in this job? In making these kids better fighters? _ She thought, and these were questions she begun asking herself more and more.

And Claude… mostly took it in stride. He didn't complain but he kept looking at her as if making them do chores was part of some grand scheme he hadn't figured out yet. Like she was a puzzle he hadn't found the last piece of. 

The thought made her smile. It filled her with a perverse sense of achievement knowing she had stumped him. And continued to stump him. She mentally patted herself on the back for having such a good blank face, even though every now and then it was hard to keep the poker face because of her ghostly headmate. That wasn't really something she anticipated on and it took time to get used to.

But now, she had a Deer to play around with.

-

It's been a good chunk of time since she's accepted the role of professor and she liked to think she's settled into her teacher role quite nicely. Now, after writing some reports Byleth stretches her legs and decides it's high time she got herself a meal. It's the beginning of the evening, light slowly waning the sky and students beginning to retire for the night.

Entering the kitchen she hears the unmistakable sounds of someone washing dishes. It's a sleek, professionally designed kitchen fitting for a fancy military academy. Utensils were hanging on hooks and the granite counters were mostly spotless, save for some dirty dishes that were currently being washed.

She peeks around the corner of the door frame and sees the familiar set of unruly hair juxtaposed with a tidy braid.

Claude.

And he seems… strangely into washing his dishes. 

"Who do you work for?" He asks the ceramics, boyish glee in his voice, "Who's your contact?" 

He repeatedly pushes the glass under the water, acting out an interrogation scene. 

_ "Boys," _ she hears Sothis say, her voice echoing through her mind, _ "but I see he's taken to your teachings." _She ends that with a small giggle.

Right. She taught them how to interrogate people. Technically torture, but whatever. Semantics. Even given them each a sheet detailing human anatomy and which parts would be the best to rip and tear to extract the knowledge and information you wanted. Byleth personally found toes worked well. They were a bundle of sensitive nerves and using a sledgehammer to smash 'em typically made getting what she wanted pretty easy. And if that didn’t work, sleep deprivation certainly did.

And of course, she taught them water torture, but she preferred to call it 'gentle persuasion.' She entertained the idea of making them practice on each other but suffice to say she wasn't quite ready on getting fired. And Marianne looked like she was about to faint.

She blows a breath. "At least he's having fun."

_ "You are fond of him. Of each other. Both of your hearts sang when you choose his House." _

"Real poetic." Sure, she supposed her heart 'sang' when his face went red when she said she was looking forward to getting to know him. And her heart continues to sing seeing how her blank expression infuriates him. She enjoys being a mystery to him. 

And her heart definitely sang when she commanded him to sit down during detention for the Tea Lacing Incident and he did just that. Even called her _ ma'am. _The last time someone called her that they were underneath her and tied to the bed's headboard. 

_ "Must you be so filthy?" _ Sothis gripes _ . _

"And you're a rent-free roommate. As far as I'm concerned you can handle a little bit of filth." 

Sothis continues, undeterred, _ "I thought you wanted to be partners with the boy. Whatever happened to your grand plan with the monastery, hmm?" _

Byleth's jaw tenses and shifts on her feet, "All… part of the plan of blending in… of acting as the monastery's puppet. These things take time."

_ "Liar." _ Sothis says, and Byleth can tell she's talking through a grin, _ "You are simply too fond of teasing him. Letting him know your goals and secrets would no longer make you a mystery. You like being an enigma far too much." _

Well, Byleth supposed that if anyone could read her it would be the weird ghost girl in her head. Sothis' voice continues in her mirthful tone.

_ "I prefer it this way, personally. I had feared I'd be overcome with boredom when you summoned me. But you've given quite the show. I'll cheer you on." _

And then Byleth can tell she disappears as she can't… sense her anymore. But she's probably watching her... somewhere. Byleth wasn't entirely sure how this weird intangible spirit nonsense worked.

"—Teach?"

She blinks and suddenly Claude is looking at her with a dubious expression. 

"Claude," she says, expression blank, "I see you're putting in extra effort into implementing what I taught you. Good work."

He quirks a brow and she sees his sleeves are wet from the water, "Do you make it a habit to stare at your students through the door, Teach?"

He looks at her, eyes narrowed just a tad. She can tell he was searching for any hint for a reaction in her expression. And she wasn't going to give him one, so she kept her gaze unwavering from his.

She was unflappable. An immovable rock. He furrowed his brow for a split second. He was beginning to grow frustrated. For a man with a reputation for reading people, he was quite easy to read himself. But perhaps she was just _ better _at it than him. 

She _ had _ to be better. If you weren't, you were dead. Too many fellow mercenaries found that the hard way and she wasn't going to be one of them. She won't be a tally to someone's score. 

She'll be the one doing the tallying. And if she was honest with herself…

She just _ liked _being better.

She keeps doing her charade of having a distinct lack of emotion, "I find I often have to keep my eyes on you because you're always getting in trouble. It was only days ago since you laced Lorenz's tea and then you nearly got yourself killed from those bandits."

He gives the barest hint of a sardonic smile, "Ouch, Teach. Really good at hitting them where it hurts, huh?"

_ Exceptionally good at that. _

Her eyes flick his leg and back his face. 

"You're healing well," she takes some steps closer to him, "But I thought you were supposed to have crutches."

He shrugs, "Don't need 'em. I'm pretty good at bouncing back on my feet." He winks. He seems to like doing that quite often. 

And she knew this was the moment to pounce on her little deer. 

She came closer, close enough to touch him. She see his shoulder tense slightly in surprise. Then she sees some food on his cheek, probably from the meal he had earlier. She brings her hand to wipe it off and she can feel the heat on his cheek.

"You know," she whispers, as if she's letting him in on a secret, "Baby deer are quite good at healing. They can still run and jump, even with a broken leg, and the bones will self-heal nice and quickly." She leaves her hand to linger on his cheek longer than necessary to make sure the sensation is imprinted on his mind. 

She narrows her eyes to purposely make herself look… a little dangerous. 

"The image of a deer suits you, Claude."

_ Because you must so nice to hunt. _

She watches his Adam's apple bob and she can tell his heart is racing, "...Yeah? Well I guess I'm a pretty sprightly guy." Then, he lowers his voice, "I might just be a baby deer right now, but you'll help me grow my antlers and make me become a stag, won't you, Teach?"

She responds to that with a low, short hum and finally takes her hand off his cheek.

_ "If you don't eat him up first," _she hears Sothis quip.

"Good night, Claude," she says and turns to leave. Claude doesn't say anything else and she can feel his stare at her back. Soon she finds herself in the academy's many hallways, out of sight of anyone. 

_ Where am I going with this? _She asks herself. Playing around with Claude will certainly not get her any closer to her goal. 

_ But this is the most fun I've had in a while with a man. _

She's breaking so many rules, she knows that. Big bad Professor toying around with her poor innocent student. She must be such an abhorrent person to do this.

She smirks. It's a smile that's only reserved for herself in private. 

_ Good thing I never claimed on being a good person _.

So, her original plan has been completely sidetracked. But well. She might as well put on a good show for Sothis. And herself. 

_ All fun and games. _

Then her expression becomes more serious, her own thoughts trying to calm herself… Reassure herself. If she had a pulse she thinks her veins would be thundering underneath her skin.

_ Nothing will come from this. It's all… harmless teasing. Just some fun. _

She's pretty sure she hears Sothis scoff in the back of her mind. 

2.

Is there was _ one _thing Byleth had absolute confidence in teaching, it was teaching how to outsmart your enemy, incapacitate and most importantly, kill.

They're doing a mock battle against the Blue Lions House.

Byleth shifts on her feet and her whole body is a bundle of barely contained excitement. These were the moments her poker face threatened to break the most. Just before a proper fight like this, she had to stop herself from bearing a wolfish grin.

She hears an annoyed grunt. Next to her Claude shifts on his feet. He's impatient because his leg still hasn't healed, so he's sitting this one out.

"I thought you said baby deer can still run and jump even with broken bones, Teach! C'mon, let me fight." 

Byleth makes a noncommittal shrug, eyes still trained on her future battlefield, "Just watch, Claude, you're still technically participating because we'll be using your tactics."

He snorts, "Yeah, well, I'd feel a lot more confident in my tactics if I was out on the field. Not like I can see much with all the trees in the way, anyway."

"We don't always get what we want, Claude." 

They say nothing at that, and Byleth eventually joins with the other Golden Deer students out on the field. A forest separates the Deer from the Lions. Gazing up at the canopy, she sees the sun breaks through the cracks, lighting up the dirt path ahead of her, decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves that crunch beneath her boots. She takes in the fragrance of minty grass and the damp earth.

It's all so very scenic.

She turns to her students and yells, "Let's show them what the Golden Deer are capable of!" 

She's met with a raucous battlecry, one she's sure the Blue Lions can hear from their edge of the forest. A strange sense of pride wells in her chest seeing their enthusiasm. Even Hilda seems excited. 

And then they depart into the labyrinth of trees.

-

She sprints across the forest like a soul possessed. It doesn't take long for them to meet their enemies.

She crosses blades with Felix. Their swords cross with a clang and Byleth watches Lorenz try to fight off Sylvain from the corner of her eyes, the red-head grinning the entire time.

She strikes at Felix and he blocks it, but she feels a wretched grin split across her lips when she watches his blade shiver under the brutality of her compelling strength. Her movements are quick, self-assured and her strikes are unrelenting enough that she begins to force Felix to step back. 

She hears him pant and huff out several frustrated breaths. 

Her eyes narrow and her grin grows wider. These were moments where she didn't bother hiding her emotions through a well-trained poker face, probably because her opponents often didn't usually live long enough to get a good look at the smile plastered on her face.

She can see Felix begin to struggle to block against her whirlwind of strikes. She relishes these moments, of the adrenaline of battle, of cornering her opponent. It really hasn't been too long since she made quick work of the bandits to save Edelgard, but being stifled in a classroom setting makes it seem like it's been years. It feels like it's been too long since she's done this, and she aches to hear the din of battle. 

Her body has been moulded for this sport, she remembers the days when from dawn until dusk she did nothing but train. It tools years before she could fight nonstop for hours without vomiting or fainting. She remembers when she filled her boots her broken shards of glass so that she could dull her pain tolerance. Every scar is a victory to her. She remembers the countless failures she's had when sparring against Jeralt, and she remembers the sense of pure jubilation she felt when she finally, _ finally _beat him with a broken nose and shattered kneecap. 

The blood, sweat and tears made her stronger. Now she's the harbinger of pain rather than the hapless victim. She finds she quite enjoys dishing out that very pain, probably far more than the average person.

_ "Worthy of the name Ashen Demon," _she hears Sothis chuckle

_ I was born for this. I _ earned _ my title and reputation. _

Before she do the finishing blow against Felix she hears a whistle. At first she thinks it might be a bird's call but when the Blue Lion students make a hasty retreat she knows it's a signal. She remembers what Claude said during the debriefing. 

_ "Don't follow the feint retreat." _He had said. 

They pretend to chase after them before backing away. Luckily, they have a man the size of a mountain on their side. She signals Raphael to keep chasing them, screaming and barreling through the foliage, no doubt his noise making their opponents think there's still a battalion after them.

The Golden Deer break off into two groups, covering large expanse of ground as they maneuver an oversized pincer formation. 

_ “Go twice, no three times the size of a usual pincer formation, because they’ll be doing their own pincer.” _Claude said, and when questioned about why he thought they’d do a pincer attack he just shrugged and winked.

And they do just that. Counter Dimitri’s pincer with their own, larger pincer. The Blue Lions are easily overwhelmed in the midst of the confusion of what happens. Raphael was an exquisite bait and Byleth makes sure to give him extra credit for it.

When Dimitri eventually surrenders Leonie lets out a large victory cry and Byleth is pretty sure she blows out her throat with how she splutters and coughs at the end of her screaming. 

They have a big hearty meal afterwards, and soon enough everyone either lazily lounges around or retires for the evening. Byleth finds a small corner to relax in, a glass of ale in her hand. Soon enough, and unsurprisingly, Claude saddles up next to her. 

"So," he says as he takes a bite out of the apple he's holding and sits next to Byleth, shoulders almost touching, "I heard that Felix will be transferring to the Golden Deer house. Impressive work, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised the Ashen Demon convinced the guy with a fighting fetish that our house is the best place to get stronger."

Byleth hums, and she can see he's trying to find a reaction in her expression again, "You knew the Blue Lions were going to do a pincer attack."

He shrugs and chews on his apple some more. Byleth can hear Lysithea complain about Hilda getting drunk somewhere. 

"It's the oldest trick in the book, Teach. It's a good lesson for Dimitri to not be so predictable," Claude says with a wink.

She takes a swig of her ale, now she can hear Hilda and Raphael sing a drunkard song, soon joined by Leonie, "You still knew. You knew exactly how big their formation was going to be," she glances at him, "Did you eavesdrop on them when they were planning?" 

He cocks his head to look down on her, a grin forming on his lips. Byleth absently notes there's a piece of apple skin stuck between his teeth.

"It's called gathering valuable intel. You would send spies before a real battle, wouldn't you? Just imagine that's what I was doing."

She makes sure to keep her expression blank and even. "Where did you hide?" 

He takes another bite from his apple, "In a tree. Plenty of leaves to hide me. Also gave me a good vantage point to see their map and plans with a spyglass."

"And what would you have done if you got caught?" She leans in and she gets close enough where he leans back, throat bobbing. Cute. 

He swallows before speaking. "Well I suppose if I was a real spy I would have easy access to a poison to kill myself with if I can't escape. Can't risk divulging any of our secret info, can I?"

Raphael's and Hilda's singing has changed into snoring as the two sleep on a table. Leonie continues to sing though it's mostly mumbling. Byleth can hear Lysithea's exasperated sigh from halfway across the room. She tilts her head at him.

"Good answer. You pass."

He blows a raspberry and laughs lightly before taking another bite of the apple, "Of course you'd spring a pop quiz on me."

She shrugs, "Eavesdropping like that is against the rules, you know."

"Good thing you're not much of a stickler for the rules then, huh, Teach?" 

She shakes her head before drinking more ale. She licks her lips and she doesn't miss how Claude's eyes follow her tongue. 

_ "He's just as filthy as you are." _Sothis says but Byleth ignores her.

"If I was a stickler for the rules," she makes sure to say it slowly, "I'd have to punish you."

There's a hint of a blush forming on his cheeks, and he looks as though he's going to crush what's left of the apple in his hand.

When he speaks, it's slightly raspy, "Well, don't keep a guy in suspense, Teach." 

She leans in further, and this time she makes sure to give him the barest hint of a smirk, she likes to think he's earned seeing some emotion on her face, "Clearly, detention isn't working very well since you keep up with your antics. Perhaps," she draws out the word, "I should take you over my knee and spank you."

And Claude actually manages to crush the apple in his grip. 

He instinctively clenches his hands, his fingers clench inwards in a sudden, claw like motion, reminiscent of a crab. The apples explodes under the pressure with a _ crack _and pieces fly to his face. The juices drips down his hand, his wrist, and onto his sleeve. The blush is a lovely shade of deep scarlet now.

There’s a stretch of silence. Claude’s eye twitches noticeable and he exhales a harsh breath through his nose.

He tries to subtly cross his legs.

Before he can reply, she stands up. She decides she wants to keep that flabbergasted expression on his face. 

She pats herself down with the hand that isn't holding her glass of ale. 

"But it's a good thing I'm not a stickler for rules." And because she's feeling a big cheeky, she gives him a wink. 

"I'll see you around, Claude."

She can hear Sothis cackle at the back of her head the entire time she walks off.

3.

Suffice to say, her little 'plan' to dig up dirt on the monastery has gotten mostly nowhere. 

And dammit, she's even starting to grow a bit fond of the people at the church. Flayn and Cyril especially. Perhaps it's maternal instinct bubbling inside her without her consent. Maybe just being a Professor ain't too bad. A Professor who can wind back time, but whatever. She'll figure out the Divine Pulse hullabaloo later. Just like when she told herself she'll dig up dirt on the Church later. Just… _ later. _

_ "It's not good for a Professor to be a procrastinator." _Sothis says. 

"Shut it." Byleth grunts, and she's rewarded with Sothis's light laughter. She scratches her forehead and leans back on her chair. Once again, she's in the classroom writing a report. Doing Professor things. She isn't getting paid for nothing, after all. 

She sighs, the air has a cinnamon perfume smell to it. Over the course of her stay here she's placed so many plants in this room it's almost like being in a little jungle. Perhaps it was because she was so used to seeing foliage since she was always on the move as a mercenary. Sitting in the class for so long made her restless and the plants made it feel more… homely, in a way. It calmed her.

Regardless, she kind of wants to punch something anyway. Another sparring match would be a welcome distraction. Claude's leg has healed, and when she sparred with him earlier in the day he had an… _ interesting _reaction. He's been pointedly avoiding her for the entire time. But she'll deal with that later.

"—A hotspring's gonna open!" She suddenly hears, and she's pretty sure that's Sylvain's gleeful voice. The man joined the Golden Deer shortly after Felix. She almost feels a bit bad depleting the Blue Lions House. But it's not like she's actively trying to get them to hop Houses.

_ Must be my utterly charming personality and good looks. _

Part of her thinks Sylvain joined to stare at her chest. He seems like the type of person to do that. So maybe good looks actually have something to do with it.

_ But the hotspring on the other hand… _

That would be as good as a distraction as any. A good spot to relax. And she knows how much Sothis enjoys it when she goes sightseeing and visits new places. 

So she cleans her desk, puts books away, and walks to her destination like a woman on a mission. 

-

Byleth supposes she shouldn't have been surprised with how the bathhouse looks. 

But damn is it regal and fancy. 

At first she was struck by the imposing columns all around the rectangular spring. Each column was linked to the next by a perfect archway and the curved ceiling was inlaid with gold. The water itself was as blue as glacier run-off, and it was probably mineralized too. The stone was cold beneath her bare feet and she shivered a little. Steam emanated from warm water, inviting her in

_ What's the point of having a fancy bath? Do nobles really need to scrub their asses in a place like this to feel clean? _

_ "And yet here you are." _ Sothis says, and Byleth can almost sense she's surveying her new surroundings, _ "This world of yours is quite the sight. And were you trying to surprise me by bringing me here? It will take more than that!" _

Byleth rolls her eyes, but she means no ill will behind it, "Who knows how long it's been since _ you _bathed. I'm doing you a favour." Obviously it's a pointless remark because of Sothis's lack of a physical form, but friendly banter like this has become quite common between them.

It's late. Byleth had made a pit stop to get some beer, and Sothis insisted she visited many other areas so she got properly sidetracked. So now she's properly alone in this oversized, fancy hotspring. There's even dumplings and tea on the side that Byleth paid extra for. 

She stands there, draped in a thin towel. Being alone here sure makes the thing a whole lot more luxurious.

_ ...maybe there are merits to baths like these. _

Her thoughts are then invaded by Sothis, _ "Well, go on then! You gawking bores me!" _

Byleth scratches her head, "Alright, alright. Don't rush me, geez."

She tentatively dunks a foot in the water before submerging most of her body in the pool. She sits there, feeling the tiredness seep through her bones and she heaves a long satisfied sigh, "Damn, this is nice." She turns to drink some of the tea, and snack on a dumpling. 

If nobles were good for anything, it was for designing overpriced spas, that's for sure. She doesn't sense Sothis, so she assumes she's dormant for the time being. She's well and truly alone now. 

She doesn't know long she stays there. She's pretty sure she dozes off every now and then. And she's _ definitely _sure she's turned into a prune by now. As nice as warm water is, I usually makes you feel more tired than when you first walked in. 

_ These springs could be a death trap, _she muses. 

She takes one last sip of her now lukewarm tea when she hears a door slide open and some shuffling, shortly followed by footsteps. 

She's a bit miffed at the company, but this _ is _ a public hotspring. Communal too. Unless she actually paid for a private evening she knows she has no real right to complain. 

_ "Somehow I knew this would occur," _she hears Sothis speak suddenly, and with the amusement in her voice Byleth can take a guess on who just entered. 

Turning slightly confirms her suspicions. 

Claude. 

He's wearing a thin white towel around his waist - of course her eyes would go straight to his crotch—but the rest of his body is a treat for the eyes. She figured he was muscular. Really, everyone in the academy is. They're soldiers. But actually seeing his abs and biceps is… stimulating, to say the least. Thank Goddess he's eighteen now.

Byleth has to make a conscious effort to not lick her lips, and seeing a single strand of sweat trail down his bare skin only makes her think of _ hmm, chocolate. _

Claude himself stands motionless, still as a statue. His emerald eyes are blown wide open and his hand was in the middle of scratching his head, but that too has stilled.

Naturally, Byleth's ghostly headmate takes this moment to interject, _ "You're both hopeless." _

Claude finally moves again, hands going to the back of his head as he tries to act casual despite the two of them practically being naked. 

"Teach. Hey. Fancy meeting you here."

She nods, "Hello, Claude. Will you be joining me?" 

He responds with his own nod, but it's jerky and he places his hands to his side. "...If you don't mind." 

She turns her head to stop gawking at her student.

"It's a communal spring. You're more than welcome to join." Is it just her or does she sound a bit throaty? Totally just her. 

_ "Your facade is breaking." _ Sothis says in a singsong voice. She's having _ way _too much fun with this.

Byleth's jaw tenses when Claude sits in the bath next to her, though he's a metre or two away. 

_ This is hardly the first time you've been in bath with a man, _ she chides herself. She's been in baths with _ several _ men, in fact. _ Get it together. _

She looks at him and for a moment it looks like he's about to turn his gaze away, as if trying to hide the fact he was staring at her. But clearly he decides against it, and keeps his eyes on her. 

"Now why are you out here so late?" She asks, her expression schooled into her infamous poker face. 

He rests his arms against the edge of the spring, "Privacy, really. I take it you're the same." 

She can't help but think that he intentionally picked it late at night in an attempt to lower his chances of meeting her. Ever since the Sparring Incident he's avoided her. And now she's here with him. In a spring. With nothing but thin towels to cover them.

And despite his avoidance he still joined her.

Funny how that works. She's sure he's probably screaming on the inside.

She repositions herself so she's facing him and props an arm at the rim of the pool, so that her hand is resting on her cheek. Claude looks at her too. 

And they just stare at each other for a bit. 

Then he flicks his gaze down for just a second before looking back at her face. 

_ Subtle. _

She knows some of her chest is visible above the water but she isn't giving him a show of cleavage. But it's probably alright amount for an eighteen-year old boy. Possibly an _ exciting _amount. 

Something bubbles inside of her. She thinks her face is warm but it's probably because she's been in here for a while now. She's not… _ embarrassed. _No way. What is she, a blushing virgin? That's Claude's role. She hasn't been flustered with another person on years. 

She breaks the silence to distract herself, "Have you eaten anything on the way here?"

He cracks his neck and turns to face her properly rather than look at her from the corner of his eyes. 

"Nope." He pops the P, "Figured I'd do that later, Teach." Then he eyes narrow and he gives an open look of concern, "You alright? You're looking awfully… red." 

She was expecting him to tease her for being red but he doesn't say anything and continues to actually look worried. She _ is _ starting to feel a little light hearted.

_ "You're about to faint," _Even Sothis sounds worried. 

Byleth blinks the world back on focus and shakes her head lightly, "You're a growing deer," she says, not entirely sure where she's going with this, "You should eat."

She comes closer to him, taking a dumpling in her hand while does so and brings it close to his mouth. 

"Here. Eat." She whispered unsteadily.

His eyes widen and then narrow, giving her a skeptical look, "Teach—"

"Open your mouth, Claude." It's an order this time. 

And Claude does just that. And it makes her feel warmer below the waist.

She gingerly brings the dumpling to his mouth and she purrs when takes a bite out of it and chews. He swallows, but there's crumbs on his lips. She throws the dumpling to the side to bring her fingers to his lips.

"You," she breathes, "are such a messy eater." She slowly and gentle swipes her finger across his bottom lip, then across his top lip. His eyes are half lidded and for a moment she thinks he might actually open his mouth to allow her digits entrance to his mouth. 

_ Right. Teasing quota met. Time to go. _

She stands suddenly and luckily the cloth on her body is still wrapped around her. She thinks she probably would have pounced on him if her towel had fallen off somewhere. 

She exits the bath and walks away with a brisk pace. She hears Claude say something but there's a buzzing in her ears so she doesn't make out what he says. He doesn't follow her, probably because she enters the women's changing room. 

She leans on the door and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

_ What the fuck was that? This was all just harmless teasing but now I'm… what… invested? In him? I've never been this… flustered before. _

She shakes herself. It's just the heat from the water getting to her. When was the last time she had _ feelings _ for a man like that? Probably never. It's only ever been one night stands with her. Whatever. Her being flustered was only a momentary lapse of control. And she's regained that very same control.

Sothis probably said something. She always does. If not she always either scoff or laughs. 

But like with Claude she doesn't make it out. 

Probably because she faints in the dressing room. 

4.

Byleth makes a mental note to never visit a hotspring again. Or at least time her damn visits so she doesn't become a prune or faint in the dressing room because the heat got to her.

Ever since _ that _ incident Claude has been making a habit of asking her out every chance he got. So much for avoiding her, she wonders what had changed. Regardless, Byleth has regained her control, her _ cool _and she's sure as fuck isn't going to lose it again. At least, that's what she tells herself. Soaking in warm water was a vice, apparently. 

She's gone back to her usual teasing. Teasing with control. No flustered faces. She called him a _ good boy _in the library and man, did he clearly enjoy that. She also enjoyed that. So much so she thinks she might have actually initiated sex if Sothis didn't materialize in front of her. 

And it would have been a one night stand, no _ feelings _attached. But, well, in one night stands she doesn't usually see the person she fucks afterwards. She's kinda stuck at seeing Claude repeatedly. It's good Sothis broke her out of the moment. It was a dangerous moment, and would have led to an awkward morning. 

Regardless, the whole event made her realize she really needed a good fuck.

She sits at a table with a set of tea in front of her. She finished doing Professor things, and now she's relaxing with some of her favourite teas and biscuits. Dainty cups and saucers of egg-shell china were grouped with the biscuits; a miniature silver tray held a sugar-dish and a cream-pot and a half-dozen gold-lined souvenir spoons. It looked like she was expecting guests.

But she wasn't. It was her _ Me time _ moment. She also just needed to temper that pent up sexual frustration. Tea helped with that. 

And her _ Me time _doesn't last very long, considering she hears a stampede of feet approach her. 

"Proooooooofessor!" That sounds like Hilda, and sure enough her flurry of pink hair comes into view when she rounds the corner. And then she's followed by Leonie, Lysithea and Marianne. 

Byleth leans back in her chair, "You girls look like trouble."

Hilda quickly takes a seat directly across from her, "And _ you _look so lonely out here by yourself daydreaming like that. So we figured we'd give you some company. A tea party with just us girls!" She squeals enthusiastically. 

Lysithea huffs when she takes her own seat. 

"Speak for yourself," she quips, "You practically dragged the rest of us for this childish endeavor." 

Marianne takes her seat, taking extra precaution to not make any noise when she slides the chair. She daintily places some tea bags on the table, "W-We brought our favourites… if that's alright…" then she almost hesitantly turns to Lysithea, "I thought you w-wanted to come here..? You sounded pretty excited last night."

Leonie barks out a laugh and finally takes her seat, noisily scraping the legs of the chair on the floor when she pulls it out. 

"Yeah, Lysithea was just _ dying _of excitement. She just refuses to admit she likes being a kid every once and a while."

Lysithea narrows her eyes and she and Leonie start a playful argument. Before long each girl pours their own tea and fall into easy conversation. 

Sure, Byleth's so called _ Me time _has been interrupted, but it's hardly the first time Hilda concocted a tea party with all the girls. She finds she quite liked their company. She never had much time for friendship as a mercenary.

_ Friends, huh. _

She doesn't know when the camaraderie started. She knows she didn't come here to make friends. But then she started developing a soft spot for some folks at the monastery. And then she start developing a soft spot for her students in general, picking up on their quirks and preferences. And just genuinely wanting them to succeed.

Maybe getting completely sidetracked from her original goal wasn't so bad. 

But then there's the whole… _ issue _with Claude. 

_ What will I do with him… _

Before she can parse that thought longer Hilda invaded her vision when she leans over the table and flails her arm at her.

"Professor!" She says, "Stop daydreaming. I need your opinion on my new hairclip." She enthusiastically point to the accessory. 

Byleth considers it, then frowns, "This looks exactly the same as your last one."

She hears Leonie scoff, “Here we go,” the red-head says.

Hilda dramatically sighs then leans back on her chair. “Professor!” she whines, “I thought you of all people would be able to see how completely different it is!” She stuffs her hand in her pocket and produces the same looking hairclip. It’s in the shape of a butterfly and is a lime-green colour. Byleth looks at the clip in her hair. Same butterfly, same colour. 

She just quirks her brow at Hilda, and the accessory maker heaves another dramatic sigh. Lysithea mutters behind her teacup, “Told you they look the same.”

  
_ “They’re a different colour,” _ and Byleth blinks as Sothis’s words suddenly invading her head, _ “Look at the one she’s wearing. It’s a lighter shade of green.” _

Byleth looks at the hairclip. Then the one in Hilda’s hair. Then back at the one at the table. 

“Barely,” she says, and it captures the attention of everyone at the table so she continues, “The, uh, one in Hilda’s hair is a different shade of lime-green. But just barely.”

Hilda excitedly stands from her seat and gleefully hopes on her feet, “Professor! I _ knew _there was a fashionable bone in your body somewhere!” Then she sits back down, just as excited, “Colour coordination is everything in an outfit. Pink is a shade of red. Green is a complementary colour of red, so naturally I’d have to go with a lighter shade of green to fit my hair. Bah-bam!”

They continue talking of fashion after that, with Hilda gesticulating wildly. Byleth doesn’t participate much, opting to focus on drinking her tea. But eventually Sothis speaks up, sounding awfully… melancholic.

_ “Deep in my mind, I glimpse the distant past. Once familiar faces, lost in the mist...just out of reach.” _

She blinks, wondering where she’s going with this.

_ “I wonder… if I had… drank tea with them like this. If I had spoken with them like this.” _

Ah. 

Now thinking about it, Sothis’s current existence is an awfully lonely one. An amnesiac spirit who’s only companion is an ex-merc. And Byleth wouldn’t really consider herself great or invigorating company. And she can only assume watching her and Claude pussyfoot around each other can be entertaining for a while, but not forever. She stares at the warm caramel colour of her tea, watching the liquid sway.

_ “Do you…” _ Sothis continues, sounding downright sombre now, _ “Do you think the butterfly would complement my hair?” _

She tilts her head in consideration. Her eyes flick to Hilda. 

“Hilda,” Byleth says and Hilda’s attention turns to her, “What type of accessory would work best with someone with green hair? The same shade as Seteth.”

“You looking to get something for Flayn?” She asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Something like that.”

Leonie leans on her elbows, “So the ghost haunting you has green hair then?” While her question is directed at Byleth, her gaze is aimed as Lysithea. 

And the white-haired mage holds her teacup with a trembling, the liquid threatening to tip over the rim. 

“Shut _ up, _Leonie.” She says, though her voice is wobbly. Leonie barks out another laugh and slaps her knee and Marianne awkwardly puts her hand on Lysithea’s shoulder to comfort her.

Hilda takes a small bite out of a pecan biscuit resting on the table, “Like I said, green is a complementary colour to red. So, something red would fit them. Oooh, maybe something engraved with rubies!” She clasps her hands together, “How is their hair? Long, short? Tied back?”

Byleth smiles, “Long. Very long. She’s got twintails like you.” Well, sort of anyway. 

Hilda claps her hands in merriment, “Oh! I see your ghost has refined taste! Ah, I think each twintail can be done with a thin, hair tie that looks like a series of petite red roses. That, or it can be a white hair tie with one large rose in the middle. Stone ornaments, of course, not real roses since they die much too quickly.”

“You think that would look nice?”

“Positively divine! But there’d have to be nothing else on her head! Or else it would look too noisy. Naturally her outfit would need to match.”

Byleth hums, “Thanks, Hilda. I’ll be sure to relay the info.” Then she speaks more to Sothis than anyone else, “I’ll need to pick some roses. And get a mirror. Hold up the roses so she can take a good look at it, being a ghost doesn’t mean she can pick it up for herself, you know.”

“Enough!” Lysithea suddenly yelps, slamming her teacup to the table, “Stop talking about g-ghosts!” 

Leonie gives the barest hint of a sardonic smile, “You’re in a military academy, Lysithea. You’ll soon be haunted by the soldiers you kill when you’re a proper warrior.” She wiggles her fingers, going “awooo!” to imitate a stereotypical ghost at Lysithea. 

The mage gives her a pointed glare but crosses her arms, then her expression almost becomes smug, “I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.”

For a few seconds, there is only silence. Lysithea’s brow twitches. Then Marianne squeaks out a small laugh before covering her mouth. Leonie immediately fills the silence with raucous laughter, slapping her knee again and almost falling off her chair. 

“My, my!” Leonie exclaims, “Our dear lil’ Lysithea cracked a joke!”

Hilda snorts, “How long were you waiting to say something like _ that?” _

And the night continues on much like that. Jokes are exchanged, fashion advice forced upon Byleth, and smiles that reach ears are made. Eventually the evening thins out, Marianne is the first bid goodnight. Followed by Lysithea, then Leonie and Hilda. 

Now alone, Byleth takes one last bite from a lone biscuit. On cue, Sothis speaks, her voice blithe. 

_ “When I appear before you, I am just a shadow. Perhaps a dream. And yet you helped me converse with those girls like they were my friends. One might say you’ve given some new life by entertaining my desire to speak with others.” _

Byleth stares at nothing, but a smile plays on her lips. 

_ “Thank you.” _

“You’re welcome,” Byleth whispers, and then she can’t sense Sothis.

Evidently, having friends is nice. Companionship is… something precious.

There’s a comfortable warmth pooling in her body. If Byleth were a more poetic woman, she’d say there is no fine whiskey in fine lounges that can match the smallest speck of this warmth, of this joy she feels now. She’s even dare to say that no matter the weather or the place she may find herself in, the feeling she has inside her will keep her warm no matter what. 

The table’s mostly clean now. Marianne refused to leave without taking some of the cups and dishes with her. But there is still something left behind. 

One of the hairclips. The one that wasn’t in Hilda’s hair.

She takes it when she leaves.

-

The next morning before class Claude happily sidles up next to hear when she’s walking down the hallway. 

“Mornin’, Teach,” he says cheekily, hands behind his head. 

Inwardly, she smirks. Outwardly, her face is even and blank, as usual. No warm water here, no time to get flustered. She tops walking and so does Claude, and she looks up at him, a shadow passing over her face. She makes sure to narrow her eyes to look a bit intimidating. She knows by now that Claude quite likes that. To be bullied and cowed. 

“You’re just the man I was looking for,” she says and he drops his hands from his hand. She can see the anticipation his eyes. The hunger. He both _ expected _ and _ wanted _for her tease him. She’ll give him just that. 

She fishes for the hairclip in her pocket, and briefly shows it to him when she takes it out. 

“Stay still,” she breathes and she clips the butterfly accessory on the side of his head that doesn’t hold his braid. When she’s done, she makes sure to trail a finger down his cute little chin and down his cute little throat. She can see the goosebumps on his neck. She has to fight the desire to grab at his throat and give him scratches.

She tilts her head, making sure her expression doesn’t reveal her hidden and filthy desires.

“Lime-green suits you. It matches your eyes.”

He smiles at her, “Does it match with gold? I’ve kinda got a colour scheme to follow here.”

She pats him on the shoulder, “Ask Hilda about that. Time for class.”

She walks off, suddenly feeling conflicted. 

Some of her students she would consider her friends. Hilda, Leonie, Marianne, Lysithea. Even Sothis. They all give her sense of… belonging. 

_ What is Claude to me? What do I _ want _ him to be? _

She doesn’t know. She knows the teasing will have to lead somewhere eventually. If anything it would be awfully unfair of her to lead him on with the promise of nothing. Perhaps a one night stand will happen, but only after he graduates so she doesn’t have to see him afterwards. 

Something inside her… stings at the thought of just not seeing him anymore.

She wrings her hands together. Is she nervous? Of what might come of the constant teasing? 

_ Nonsense. _

Just harmless teasing. No _ feelings _attached.

5.

They’re in a building where the ceiling must be twenty feet high. Designs of fruit and flowers are carved into the moulding and small, fat children with wings look down at them from every angle. Vases of blossoms give off a cloying scent that makes Byleth's nose itch.

She’s alone with Claude, because of course she is. Today was filled with dancing lessons, mostly on Seteth’s behest, because of the upcoming annual ball. It would do them no good if they couldn’t conduct themselves properly, according to him. It made Byleth’s brows twitch in annoyance having to spend the day doing these lessons. She could have spent the day drilling in fighting techniques, stuff that actually matters but _ nooooo _apparently etiquette is more important than staying alive on the battlefield. 

She hates the nobility sometimes. Especially their politics. 

But the day went by mostly smoothly, ignoring Lorenz’s constant attempts to dance with every girl in class. And then Sylvain’s constant attempts to basically do the same thing Lorenz just did. And then the two of them getting into an argument about who could dance with the girls. Eventually Byleth just made the two of them dance with each other.

And now, with the day mostly over everyone has left to do whatever it is they do during their free time.

Everyone except Claude, naturally. He stayed behind, and when Hilda left she blew kisses at Byleth, followed by Leonie who gave her a thumbs up. Byleth waved them off.

Now finally alone, he does his usual hands behind his head pose. 

“Mind giving me some extra tutoring, Teach? The Golden Deer ought to knock the Blue Lions and Black Eagles out of the park with their dancing.”

Byleth puts a hand on her hip and tilts her head, something that’s fast becoming a habit of hers, “Well, you did step on a lot of toes today. Perhaps you’re just hopeless.”

He reels back in mock defense, putting a hand over his heart as if he’d just been shot. 

“Oh, Teach! You’re ruthless!” then, that damned wink, “But that’s exactly why I like you.”

_ So he’s not even going to try to hide it anymore. _

She’s feeling the same warmth she felt in the hotspring. It’s comfortable, but also scary in a way. She doesn’t want _ feelings _ to get in the way. All her relationships were no strings attached, if one could even call them relationships. They were mostly flings. The only thing she could possibly consider a relationship was when she became a regular customer for a prostitute she often came across. But that’s only because she saw him often and paid him. Actual _ feelings _were a weakness—

_ “Oh, come off it,” _ comes Sothis’s annoyed voice, _ “It’s clear you care for him, moreso than just simple teasing. This constant tension between you two is starting to become a chore!” _

She scratches the back of her neck. Guess the teasing isn’t very entertaining for Sothis anymore. What, does she want to watch them have sex? She’s such a voyeur. 

But the teasing have been fun. She’s in control. She’s _ always _in control. She’ll continue having her fun and ignore the nervousness filling her stomach. 

And she can take a guess or two on what Claude expects of her now. She’ll humour him for now.

She brings her hand out to him, “Well, come on now, I’ll lead.”

Claude puts his hands on his hips and gives her an expectant look, “Now, Teach, aren’t you supposed to bow or something? We’ve gotta follow proper etiquette after all.” He bows, hand arm in front of his chest and one behind his back.

Byleth rolls her eyes, but mimics his bow. Once again, she holds out her hand and Claude takes it. 

He wants her to follow etiquette? He wants her to tease him? She’ll give him that. 

She leans in to kiss his knuckles and it’s an action she’s sure he was expecting, because he bites his lower lip. But only slightly, it would seem he doesn’t want to be _ too _obvious. 

_ But he’s such an easy man regardless. _

Her lips brush his knuckles and she can feel his hand grip her tighter. Once done, she puts one hand on his waist and he leans into her touch. His other hand goes on her shoulder.

_ Such an easy man. _

And so they dance. Something extremely simple because she knows they’d be stepping on each other if they did anything more complicated. But she finds he’s very good at following her, certainly better at following a dance partner than leading one. They twirl across the room and Byleth makes sure to keep her steely gaze on his emerald eyes. She’s filled with inner glee when she can see he’s making a conscious effort to not look away from her like a blushing maiden. 

She gives him a smirk. Not one that can barely be seen this time. The left side of her lips tigs upwards accompanied with a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. One that speaks of arrogant triumph. Claude’s breath hitches at the expression, and he cracks his own wavering grin. 

She figures this is the best opportunity to do what she planned at the start of the dance.

They turn quickly and she can hear the squeak on the floor as Claude’s boot slide across the floor. She leans, he leans back, and she dips him down. His hand on her shoulder goes to tightly grip her bicep and she supports him by wrapping her arm around his waist. Their faces close in. Her hair almost covers his face for a moment before he shakes his head. She’s left him breathless, if his panting is anything to go by. Her smirk grows wider.

She knows her breasts just touching his chest and she’s sure it’s doing.... _ Things _to him. His eyes almost look glazed. 

Normally, she would kiss the person whose face is dangling a breadth away from hers. It would passionate and all-consuming, and then she would lay her partner down, rip off their clothes and ride them into the ground.

But Claude isn’t like the usual partners she’s had. He isn’t a mercenary she’ll never see again after a single passionate night. Nor is he a prostitute she’s paying for.

Claude is… different. She doesn’t _ want _to just use him as a convenient cock. She doesn’t want him to just be a fling. She respects and cares for him too much for that.

And that… almost scares her more than anything. _ Feelings _ are scary.

And so she twirls again to make Claude stand back up and releases him. He steps forward.

“Teach-”

She waves a hand at him, “I have many things to think about at the time being, Claude. I’m sorry but could you… hold off on what you’re going to say until later?”

He considers her, and he smiles. It’s a comforting one, almost like he can read her finally, like he knows she’s nervous about something. 

“Course, Teach. I guess I need to mull over some things over as well.” He puts his hand back on his head and Byleth nods at him. 

_ Guess I should just… leave. _

And she does just that, her steps making echoes across the room. She hears Claude sigh when she rounds a corner, but it’s not one of sadness. It’s a dreamy one. She guesses he’s going to do the same thing she’s going to. 

When she reaches her room she locks the door. 

“Sothis,” she says as she starts taking off her shorts and leggings, “You may want to go to sleep right now.”

_ “Filthy.” _is all she hears before she can’t sense her presence anymore. 

She lay down on her bed and shimmies out of her underwear. It’s been too long since she’s had a good fuck so she’s been making due with her hands. And all her fantasies has centered around a certain Golden Deer. 

Goddess, the tension around them has been palpable. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do with it. She doesn’t want a one night stand but she’s doesn’t want something with fucking feelings. A relationship, an actual, proper relationship scares her.

_ Now’s not the time to think of it. Time to relieve some tension, dammit. _

Leaving things until later. It seems to be something she’s been doing a lot recently. 

She huffs an annoyed breath at herself and closes her eyes. She runs her hand down her belly until they reach her pussy where she taps at her pubic bone before slowly rubbing lazy circles around her vulva. Later, she makes a V sign with two of her fingers. She places both fingers on either side of her labia and she presses down slightly while wiggling the fingers towards each other, squeezing and lifting the labia together between the two digits.

She’s had a far amount of fantasies concerning Claude. One of her personal favourites is making him lean against her desk in the classroom, ass in front of her. She’d punish him. She’d punish him so _ good. _Keeping with the Professor aesthetic she’d use a ruler on him. What sounds would be make? Would he try to keep quiet, only for small whimpers to break out of him when she hits him harder? Would he be screaming almost immediately? Byleth was always partial to the vocal type. 

And she’s love to imagine the redness of his rear once she’s done with him. A lovely deep scarlet. Something where he’ll be uncomfortable sitting down for a while. 

She takes her other hand to her where she sucks on a finger, when it’s damp with warm saliva she brings it down to rub the head of her clitoris. The two fingers playing with her labia enter her slowly and she can hear familiar squelching noises. 

After a thorough spanking she’d make him go on his knees. As far as Byleth was concerned, the best position for a man was on his knees. And the best expression? With tears streaming down his face. And Claude would absolutely be crying after her treatment on his ass. She’d pull his hair, grab his throat, bite at him before shoving that cute face between her legs. She doesn’t know how experienced Claude actually is, but in her fantasy he’s a natural at it. He’d lap her up like she was an oasis in a desert. 

She pumps her fingers in and out, and rubbing on her clit becomes faster and rougher as her breathing picks up. 

She’d shove him on the ground neck, maybe even give just the lightest slap on the face to assert her dominance over him. When she’s allow him inside of her he’d whine. He’d sing a symphony because it’s _ her _and she damn well deserves some praise. She'd crush him under the heel of her boot and he'd thank her for it. She’d scratch, bite, twist a nipple, pin his hands above his head. Tell him what a naughty student he is.

She’s be in control. Byleth was _ always _ control, be it in everyday life or in the bedroom. She had absolutely no interest in ever exchanging that power in bed. Being submissive were for the men she fucked, not her. She’s a domineering bitch and she fucking likes it, so she’ll keep it that way. Her current fantasy is simple, but normally she’d like to bring out whips and chains. Make the skin on their entire body a delicious deep scarlet. Make them cry and sob. Split their assholes in two when she uses a strap-on. She reveled in other’s pain, but she’s not a _ monster. _Any pain or discomfort she’s ever inflicted on someone in bed were completely consensual.

_Fuck,_ does she want to see Claude cry underneath her. Whimper and whine. She thinks he would be good at whining out her name, begging for more.

Her hips buck at her ministrations and she grunts heavily. A third finger enters. 

He’d be left with hickeys. He’d be forced to wear so many layers. Or perhaps he’d proudly wear them, showing everyone he’s hers. She’s sure there’s a bit of a slut like that in him somewhere. 

She gasps sharply, and clenches hard on her fingers when she comes. Her toes curl and she can feel several streams of her fluid flow out of her. 

When her orgasm subsides, she feels boneless. Her go to her side and she lays there, panting heavily and slicked with sweat. 

_ Fucking shit, _is all that fills her head for a moment.

_ I think I may have it pretty bad for Claude. _

She sighs heavily. Nothing that she initially planned has come into fruition. Everything really has just gone into disarray.

And in true Byleth fashion, she just grumbles that she’ll deal with it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this series on august 5th, and now it's september 5th and I've accumulated over 100k words. Idk if that's impressive or just stupid, but it's been a lot of fun! I never imagined that I'd put quite so much time into something I just started out a whim because I was annoyed with the lack of femdom lmao, and the response has been amazing!! Thank you all for reading!!!
> 
> So there's plenty more I wanna write, like bratty power-bottom Claude being put in his place and more Byleth POV, but her POV and brand of sadism has been mirroring an OC of mine too closely. So on that note, I will be tentatively marking this series as complete, because I wanna focus 100% on a multichapter original story. No spoilers, but it'll be full of femdom fuckery and I won't be nice to my male characters. :^) Hopefully it'll have an interesting plot and characters. Fingers crossed lel. I couldn't tell you when it'll be up on AO3 since I want to write out a good chunk of it before I start posting but, well, I hope it's something you all can enjoy! I'm doing my god-given duty to inject this world with more femdom, specifically femdom that actually caters and appeals to me hehe. 
> 
> Thanks again for everyone who read and commented!!!! And the lurkers who just left kudos, I see you, thanks!!!


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